She cupped her hands around her nose, smelled the sweet scent of her gloves, a mixture of warm bantha hide and grass stains. She kept her eyes focused on the light at the end of the tunnel. The rest of the team had gone on ahead of her. The energy rippling off the crowd, flowing across the pitch, hit her hard in the chest. She had nearly forgotten how energized Six Boroughs could be on game day. And now she was back in her rightful place, playing goalkeeper, with a team that had stuck by her despite going down with a season-ending injury last year. As she ran out of the tunnel at a blistering pace, the bright light gave way to the roars of the crowd, the cheers of her teammates, and her own strong personality.

She ran her gloved fingertips across the net, a pre-game ritual, gave a few cursory waves to the crowd and then gathered the team around her for one last motivational speech.

“We’ve got a lot of new faces this year. But I see talent and drive in your eyes. I see that hunger to know what it feels like to be a champion. For the veterans, let these young players succeed and learn from you. Show them the ways of a successful Limmie game and nobody will be able to stop us. I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to be back in the burgundy and black. I missed you guys, so let’s win one for Six Boroughs, let’s win one for Nar Shaddaa!”

The team broke the huddle and the game began. It was a high scoring affair. Chambers got beat too many times to count, appeared rusty, but was saved by solid play from Autumn Graves, not a natural defensive back, and her old standby, Sasha Luy’kin. On the offensive side of the game, Vic McTodd, Kellie Dupont, Mel Rypen, and Rajah Rollko were tearing apart the Dragon goalkeeper.

By the time that the game wound to a close in a thrilling finish, the Smugglers had won 38-34 over the Crazy Dragons. The way that Six Boroughs erupted once the buzzer sounded might even let one think that they had just won the Galactic Cup. The stadium was absolutely thumping with the beats of the Vertical City and Meredith raised a fist of victory that prompted another raucous cheer from ‘The Crew’.

It was good to be back.

“How’s the knee?” Sasha Luy’kin asked as she sidled up next to Chambers, the two had lockers right next to one another.

“Fine,” Chambers responded.

“Yeah, and it rains in the Vertical City,” Sasha said. “You looked slow out there, girl.”

“And so what if I was?” Meredith asked.

“Could’ve cost us the game. Just want to make sure you’re giving it your all,” Sasha said.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You try coming back from a knee injury and seeing how confident you feel out there on the pitch! Come back you here you schutta!” Chambers cried out to Luy’kin’s retreating form.

Meredith punched her locker, nearly taking it off its hinges. Things always got so catty in the locker room and now that furry Bothan was in full schutta mode. How could she even doubt me? What the hell is she thinking? I’m the only reason that they won this game, right? Chambers thought as she crumpled onto the hard bench in front of the lockers and fumed.

Luy’kin was her best friend on the squad and now even her best friend was questioning her ability to play. Questioning everything, and that wasn’t helping her recovery. Nobody frakking understood what it was like to come back from an injury that took everything you ever cared about away from you.

But as she did some soul searching on that lonely bench in the Smugglers locker room, Meredith couldn’t help but feel that Luy’kin was right. She was playing scared, worried, cautious and that kind of play would definitely catch up with her. That kind of play would crush the Smugglers season before it really kicked off in the latter part of the year.

Yeah, she had a long ways to go. That road to recovery would begin next week against Ralltiir who had one of the flashiest cheer leading squads in the galaxy.

Another game, another loss. Gark could only shake his head at the performance of his team. It had been pitiful at best. The Euceron Storm, who the Senators used to absolutely smash into the turf with no remorse, had come all this way out and beaten Coruscant at its own game, 34-24. There was nothing the Bothan coach could say to his team after the loss, because he knew as much as they did that this wouldn’t stand. They had been 0-2 before; it wasn’t exactly a hole they could dig out of easily. Sure, the long-time vets remembered 262, when this hole had preceded a 7-game winning streak on their way to a title from out of the blue. The season wasn’t over, but it was quickly spiraling out of control.

Gark’s mind was already made up of what he was going to do before even getting back to the locker room. Leed had to go; she was getting rocked so far this season, and there was nothing really showing that she had what it took to play goalie at the Elite League level. He thought she might have had it after that stellar performance on Kashyyyk, but were the Rangers really that good at that point in time? They were re-organizing their team after having been Nadiem’s farm club for a few years, and perhaps the Senators had just caught them at a bad time? Anyways, Jayla was a talented player, but if she didn’t get her act together, she would be without a job. Gark made a memo to himself to insert Venn into the starting lineup the next week against Rydonni Prime. They couldn’t afford another loss, even though these games meant little in the overall scheme of things. As long as they won enough conference games, they could sneak into the playoffs. But they would pretty much need to win on out from here, something that was almost impossible in the Elite League. Would they make the playoffs this season at all?

Was it all the work that he was doing on the side? Was Superbothan, his alter ego, starting to degrade his coaching abilities? Earlier in the week, Gark had done quite a few shifts on the streets, beating the crap out of thugs and saving the day for the innocent. But was he forsaking Limmie prep time by doing that? Was Superbothan costing him his team’s performance, not to mention his own as coach? All of this just gave him a headache.

No one in the locker room spoke to each other as they got out of their jerseys and into street clothes. They all knew what was at stake here; the playoffs, which had almost been a given going into the season for this veteran squad, was starting to become a fleeting dream. There was no margin for error now; they had to win next week. There was no way around it.

As Gark mulled over his options for the next week, he began by looking at the offense. They were doing well enough, it seemed. Not great, but they had put up a few points on the season, so at least they weren’t rusty. But the defense looked bad. And swapping Leed out wasn’t going to be the entire solution. ‘The Wall’ looked good, as did Deter . . . but what about Evis and Saram? The Zabrak looked piss-poor out there; he was a good backup, but perhaps starting was not his strength? And the attractive Zeltron . . . well, OK . . . not as attractive as Pamila was . . . wait, what was he thinking about again? Oh, right . . . team stuff . . . she had been a serviceable defensive back in the past . . . but should he bench her in favor of one of the younger Thyferran bucks? He had Ortho Dyhon ready to go off the bench at the Center Half, but he hadn’t looked very good either. Frankly, he had been part of the problem in this game, allowing holes to be blown in the defensive set time and again. Dyhon looked rattled, and thus Gark didn’t want to start him in fear of Dyhon just losing it completely. What did that leave him? Myles Tormera and Eldis Dumerville . . . well, that was pretty much a toss-up . . . Dumerville would start, just because he had some reps at CHB. And what about Evis? Tormera would start there next week alongside the veteran defenders. He had some Elite League experience, so Gark felt at least a little satisfaction knowing that Myles knew what to expect. Or at least he hoped the Zeltron did.

Midfield looked a little shaky as well. Alysha was getting burned uncharacteristically, and that wasn’t helping her midie mates much. Demetra had scored her first Elite League point in this game, but with Alysha not helping her in the middle, she just looked lost again. Laryssa hadn’t done a lot off the bench, and Izzi had downright sucked. Perhaps the two-year layoff in the college coaching ranks had cost her a step in intuition. Perhaps some changes were in order?

Finally, Gark penciled out his starting roster for the next week of practice. If they lost again, he would start to take a look at the personnel on Thyferra and see if there were some promising young players, especially defensively, whom he could give a call-up to. He had some strong half back prospects down there in Zumarooroo, Tank Bratter, Reena Wyley. Perhaps these draft picks would make good on a second chance to shine in the Elite League, after having struggled some last season with then Force? Gark hoped he wouldn’t have to make the call to Lorrin after the next week’s game, but if he did, at least he knew that he had the option to do so. That was why the Force were where they were; development squads were meant for this. And at least his was stacked with players who were experienced. And, if nothing else, if Veen struggled as well, Kapp Pyston was always available on Thyferra. Gark hadn’t been following the Force’s games so far, but Pyston was a decent player. Maybe a second chance wasn’t too far out of the equation for him either?

An hour after the game ended, Gark slunk off to the Bothancave, where he tried not to speak to anyone. What was he going to do if they lost this next week? Yes, Calo Mornd was after his life, but would the fans forgive him if he tanked this season with this promising Senators team? He was caught in a tough spot here.

“Just thought you should know that we have a lead on Mornd,” X said. “We’re moving out tomorrow to neutralize the threat.”

“Just my luck,” Gark said, sighing. How could he focus on this and Limmie at the same time? So far, it looked like he couldn’t . . . and that wasn’t doing anyone any good.

“Smashing game,” were Mara’s first words to Sydney at the start of the workweek.

“Smashed our defense is more like it. Wizmark was terrible. Jorpik looked the rookie,” Sydney said as he settled into his desk.

“Neither of them has two seasons under their belt. And we can play that way when Aron Rodders goes into beast mode,” Mara said.

“That’s not what they call it.”

“That’s what I’m calling it. That man is a beast—a tall, dark, handsome beast,” Mara said, finishing with a long breath.

“Do I hear the comm ringing out there?” Sydney asked, pointing at her cubicle across from his door.

“Rodders is single, isn’t he?” Mara continued.

“Comm ringing,” Sydney said again.

“You could totally introduce me right?”

“Mara,” Sydney warned.

“Think about it,” she said as she scurried out of his office to answer the comm.

Sydney rolled his eyes. Thirty seconds later, the comm on Sydney’s desk buzzed. “I have one Nola Feizal from the GCAA for you. It’s regarding the Miners.”

This was a new name for Sydney. “Put her through.”

The holoprojector sprung to life in Sydney’s office with the image of a female Devaronian. Unlike the males of the species, female Devaronians were quite striking in appearance. Sydney actually found them more alluring than Zeltrons. The problem was that female Devaronians pretty much ran society on Devaron and rarely left their homeworld. That made it surprising that one was on his holoprojector.

“Miss Feizal, what can I do for you?” Sydney asked.

“Mr. Talon, you are counsel for the Bakura Miners, correct?” Feizal said.

“I am, on behalf of my firm,” Sydney said, “Though I’m not sure what the Miners can do for the GC Double A. After all, last I heard the Bak10 was closed for expansion.” Sydney allowed himself a smirk.

“Cute,” Nola replied, “but this isn’t a social call.”

Sydney’s legal warning system started going off like crazy, but long ago he’d perfected his sabacc face. “And here I was just about to make dinner reservations,” Sydney quipped.

Feizal was unfazed. “The GCAA has some questions from the Miners regarding recent recruiting that was performed by the team.”

In the span of a second, Sydney’s mind whirred and he put it together. He knew where this was going. “Great, send those of to us in written form and we’ll provide our answers in a timely fashion,” Sydney said casually.

“I’d prefer to have an informal conversation now before we proceed any further with the matter,” Feizal said.

“Team policy,” Sydney said simply.

“You need to understand that if we don’t have this conversation, those questions come on Committee of Infractions letterhead,” Nola replied.

“Sounds good. Now excuse me, but I’m late for a client meeting so I’ll look forward to seeing those questions later,” Sydney said.

“Good day, Mr. Talon.”

“Good day, Ms. Feizal.” Sydney killed the broadcast. He waited a second, just to make sure the holoprojector was off and then was out of his seat, grabbing his suit jacket. “Mara, call Cundertol’s office. Whatever he’s doing, he needs to stop by the time I get there.”

Mara Kain knew that tone of voice. It was not a tone of voice that meant good things were coming. “I’m on it.”

“Clear my schedule for the morning and tell Lizsen I’m going to need to see her this afternoon,” Sydney said as he left.

OOC: Another long post that has nothing to do with Limmie. So it's probably skippable for those who complain about my long posts. But I think it's worth reading.

IC: Gark S’rilyBothancave, Briefing Session

“Sounds like he’s been a busy boy,” Dun Dun remarked.

“We must tread lightly on this one,” X said sharply, cutting Dun Dun off. “Mornd can’t know we’re trying to take him out.”

“What is the use of being quiet if you can’t make a guy nervous?” Dun Dun asked. “I think it’d be best to just rig the place up to explode and make him scramble to deal with it.”

“Like I said, there’s important information inside. We need to retrieve that,” X replied. “If we blow up this factory, then that information is lost forever, and we’ll be even farther behind Mornd than we are now. We can’t fail now.”

“So what’s the plan?” Nat’alia asked.

“You’re going to have to split up for this one,” X said. “Dun Dun, I need you and Nat to make a diversion.”

“Finally, some action!” Dun Dun exclaimed. “Sounds like fun.”

“But, don’t make a distraction unless absolutely necessary,” X cautioned. “The last thing you need is to fend off Mornd’s troops while getting the information out of there. Work as quickly and quietly as possible. Bucky, I need you to keep the field clear if anyone comes snooping around. Duckett and Neo, I need you two to get to the information databank and retrieve those files.”

“Wait . . . who?” Gark asked.

“We can’t use your real name in the field,” X replied. “Thus, we’re giving you codename ‘Neo’. Just get used to it.”

“All right,” Gark said, rolling his eyes.

“Duckett, you have everything you need?” X asked.

“Plyer set me up with everything,” the Feeorin said, nodding.

“Well, then. Good luck, and hopefully you’ll be returning with the information,” X said.

“Right. To the armory?” Dun Dun asked.

The five got up from the briefing table and walked out to the common area. Plyer just looked up at them, and then went back to fiddling with his gadgets.

“All right,” Gark said. “I’d tell us to get ready, but I don’t know what exactly we are. What do we call ourselves?”

“I’d vote for the Avengers, frankly,” Dun Dun said with a shrug.

“But what are we avenging?” Bucky asked, raising a finger in the air to add to his point.

Gark got himself in his super suit, donning the mask once again. All thoughts of Limmie dropped out of his mind; this was revenge time for him against Mornd. No Limmie game was more important than this; Mornd had to pay for what he had done. It seemed easy to slip into the suit now, since he was used to putting it on and taking it off by now. Sliding the sleeves up, he placed his gloves on and then applied the mask. Grabbing his utility belt from the rack, he slung it on his waist, and then grabbed the cape and put it on. It was time to shine.

Minutes later, the entire group was headed out the exit door. Gark was in front, clad in his full superhero attire. Dun Dun wore his regular overcoat and fatigue pants, a long-barreled blaster rifle slung over his shoulder and a pack of explosives and other high-powered weaponry on his back. Nat was decked out in her full-body black jumpsuit, with a pair of blasters sitting snugly in their holsters on her waist. Bucky, like Dun Dun, had his rifle slung over his shoulder, the sight already in place on the barrel, and was wearing a blue tunic and flight pants. Duckett wore a black muscle shirt, trying to show off his large muscles. It was odd, really, that he wasn’t another hired gun on this operation. If anyone saw the five around anywhere, they would probably think that Nat was the smart one, and that the three men not in a super suit were just the brawn of the operation. As far as what Gark was . . . well, no one would probably be sure of what exactly he was supposed to be. Maybe a guy who had just visited the costume store down the road?

“Good luck,” X said from a distance.

“Lucky frakker doesn’t have to get in the line of fire,” Dun Dun muttered.

“Save it, will you?” Nat snapped.

Warehouse District

Gark walked towards the derelict warehouse that was the target spot, the rest of the group in tow. This was going to be his first big assignment as Superbothan, and as such he was nervous. What of Mornd found out that he was being tracked? What else could Mornd try to take away from him?

“Nervous?” Bucky asked.

“A little,” Gark replied. “First big test and all.”

“I understand what you mean,” the sniper said. “I’m still pretty new at this ops stuff. But, being a sharpshooter and all, I need nerves of steel. So I just have to make the best of the situation that I can, because being nervous won’t help my aim any. Besides, if you’re nervous, then it’s easier to slip up and get kicked in the head in hand-to-hand.”

“Oh, now I feel so much better about myself,” Gark said, rolling his eyes again. Bucky’s advice didn’t make him feel any better about this particular predicament.

“So, you ready for this?” Dun Dun asked, bringing his meaty hand down like a hammer on Gark’s shoulder. The Bothan winced a bit; he hadn’t been expecting that.

“There it is,” Nat said, pointing to a warehouse right in front of them. It didn’t look much different than any of the others. But if one was an evil mastermind like Calo Mornd was, and needed a nondescript hiding place, then this would work perfectly. “Bucky, you see any cameras?”

Bucky pulled out his sniper rifle and looked through the scope. Waving it around, he looked at all angles. “Nope, don’t see any,” he reported back.

“I don’t like this,” Dun Dun. “That’s just too easy. Surely he wouldn’t just let us walk right in the front door . . .”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Gark said firmly.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Dun Dun said, rubbing his beard.

When Gark reached the front door, he poked it to see if it was open. Luckily, it wasn’t, or else he would find it suspicious. As such, they needed a plan to get inside.

“Well, how do we get in without making much of a sound?” Nat asked.

“We blow it!” Dun Dun said cheerily, grabbing a roll of detonator tape from his pocket.

Nat just scowled. Then she went up to the door, and with a ferocious kick like she had taught Gark, smashed a hole into the door big enough to get them all inside. And, luckily enough, it didn’t sound too loud. Of course, if the warehouse was empty, then “too loud” would be out of context for what they could hear outside, and thus wouldn’t be a very reassuring way to say it, because then it would echo all over the place. But a hole she made in the door, and then she dove in headfirst.

“Well, whaddya know, we found our ticket in,” Dun Dun said. He then took a step into the hole, disappearing into the dark void inside the warehouse. The other three followed suit, entering the building while trying to keep their noise down.

It was dark inside the warehouse, and it took them all a few seconds to get accustomed to the lighting scheme. As befit the warehouse of an evil genius, it was dark inside, and a quiet hum droned on in the background. Gark stepped forward cautiously, ready to pull out his blaster or night stick if necessary. At the end of the hall, he could see Nat’s figure outlined in a doorway. She motioned for all of them to join her.

What they all saw when looking down was quite the sight. They could see a large open area, with hundreds of soldiers marching in head-to-toe black armor. Quite a few different species were present in the mix, obviously, since the sizes of the troopers varied quite a bit.

“Looks like a parade ground,” Dun Dun remarked.

“But for what?” Nat asked, narrowing her eyes.

All of a sudden, a loud horn sounded, and the five “Pirates” jumped, startled by the annoying sound. Down on the parade ground, the marching troopers stopped and wheeled around. Then two figures appeared in front of the line. One was a trooper like the others, just with a white badge on the shoulder to signify some kind of officer. And the other one . . . looked familiar.

“Mornd,” Gark spat quietly.

“Wow, it really is,” Dun Dun said. “We’ve done all this recon on him, yet I never thought he looked like that. Man, his hair’s really screwed up . . .”

Nat elbowed the demolitions expert in the ribs, causing him to recoil. “We’re not here to admire his looks,” she hissed. “We’re here for work.”

Gark looked around to the right. The coast looked clear, so he waved Duckett around. Pulling out his blaster, Gark started to move forwards. There were pipes on both sides of the narrow walkway, so Gark knew that he would have to be careful not to hit them with his arm. If he did, that would cause quite a loud sound to ring out, and that was the last thing he needed to have happen.

The walkway soon emptied out into what looked like a mess hall. Several soldiers were milling around inside, their armor sparkling in the light. Gark looked around the corner, and then shot his head back to face Duckett. “Mess hall,” he said. “We’ll have to go around.”

“That will take time,” Duckett replied.

“Well, then what do you suggest?” Gark asked. “This whole party will be for nothing if they see us.”

“Run like hell,” the Feeorin replied.

“That’s not helping,” Gark said back, shaking his head. He looked back, only to see that the soldiers have left. “Now’s our chance. Let’s go!” The two of them made a mad dash across the mess hall, trying not to look around too much as they ran. When they reached the other side, Gark looked back in. Apparently they hadn’t been seen, which was to their advantage. “Now what?” Gark asked.

“We need to find the central computer terminal,” Duckett replied.

“Enlighten me. Where would we find such a hub, because I don’t think there’s going to be a map of this place anywhere around. And I’m sure they don’t have a gift shop to ask for directions.”

“Easy, little man,” Duckett said calmly. “According to intel reports, there is supposed to be a large area filled with computers. We need to find that.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

“That looks good,” Duckett said, pointing back. Gark wheeled around. Right in front of them was a doorway emptying into a large area filled with monitors.

The two walked into the room. Hundreds of monitors were lined up in neat rows in the room; it looked like an up-scale version of the Bothancave room of operations. Gark looked around; no enemies were in sight.

“I don’t like this,” he said. “This is too easy.” The two walked forward cautiously, Gark with his blaster out. He was ready to fire at anything that moved and was wearing black armor. “What computer is supposed to have the information on it, exactly?”

“Let me check,” Duckett said. He pulled out a datapad and began to scan through filed.

“Hurry up, will ya?” Gark hissed. “The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to be caught.”

“One in the far back,” Duckett finally said, after deliberating on the datapad. “I’ll lead us to it.” He started forwards, Gark taking up the rear. There was a faint buzz in the background, making Gark uneasy. It felt like one of those horror movies where the bad guy was going to jump you when you least expected it. Except that this wasn’t a movie, and the enemy was intent on killing you. After a few minutes, Duckett approached a single monitor in a row of like screens. “This is the one,” he said.

“Wait,” Gark said. “I feel like we’re being watched.” He then whipped his arm around and made contact with the leg of a man in black. Both men sat frozen, suspended in animation for a split second as they sized each other up. Then the man in the black suit and tie released his leg from that position and brought his other hand up. Gark brought his arm down and attempted to beat the man in the face with a fist. But the man was too fast, and Gark’s hand was contacted before it reached the face.

Duckett moved to help, but then another man came from out of the shadows. He let out a battle cry and then attacked the Feeorin with fists flailing wildly. Duckett promptly punched him in the face. The man went down, grabbing his face. “Ow!” he yelled. “That hurt!”

The man whom Gark was fighting looked down at his partner, and then swung his arm at Gark’s head. The Bothan blocked the blow and then brought his foot up to try and catch the man off-guard. But it didn’t work, as the two men were evenly matched.

The fight went on for several more seconds until Gark caught the man’s hand in mid-air and twisted it around his head. Then, he placed his blaster up to the man’s head. “Out of our way,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Something metallic fell to the floor, and both men looked down at it. It was a police badge. Gark, realizing his mistake, withdrew his grip from the man. “You a cop?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man replied. He picked up the badge off the ground and shoved it in Gark’s face. “You’re under arrest!”

“Now wait a second,” Gark said. He probably should have finished the man off when he had the chance. It was never good for anyone, especially someone like him, to run afoul of the law in this instance. “I had the chance to finish you off, but I didn’t. Does that make me such a bad guy?”

“What do you want?” the man asked. The other man pulled out a blaster and aimed it at Gark’s head.

“Im’a gonna blow your head off if you move!” he said in a slick drawl. “Now answer the damn question!”

“I think you should be the one answering that question,” Gark said snidely.

“We want the information hidden in this computer,” the man with the badge said. “Give it to me!”

“It sounds like we have the same goal in mind here,” Gark said. “That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Why would you need that?” the man with the blaster asked inquisitively.

“Because we want to take Mornd down just as much as you do,” Duckett interjected. The man with the blaster stuck it in his face after he spoke.

The man with the badge put a hand on his compatriot’s arm, causing him to drop his blaster hand and get the weapon out of the Feeorin’s face. “Tell me where it is,” he said.

“We don’t know,” Gark said. “We were on our way to retrieve it.” He motioned to Duckett, who then went over to the selected computer and began to unpack his hacking tools. All three of the men huddled around him.

“If our sources are correct, then it should be in a nondescript folder somewhere on this hard drive,” Duckett said. He pulled out a small device that he then inserted into the computer mainframe. This caused all sorts of crazy things to flash on the screen momentarily before it shut off completely.

“You killed it!” the badge man exclaimed.

“It’s rebooting,” Duckett said calmly. Sure enough, the screen popped back on seconds later, this time with the file names and types clearly displayed. Searching the drive for a second, Duckett then keyed in on one. “This is it,” he muttered. Using his override device, he was able to crack open the folder. This led to a password screen.

“We don’t have the password,” Gark said.

“This is easy stuff,” Duckett said. He thumbed a button on the override device, and a sequence of numbers began to randomly flash on the screen. “Any good hacker like me knows how to crack a simple password code.” Then a green set of numbers flashed on the screen, and the password entry box disappeared. All that was left was a single file. “This is it,” he said. Sliding another device into the computer, he began to download the file onto the drive. “It’ll take a minute,” he said.

“We need that device,” the badge man said firmly. “This is our case to solve.”

“And how are we supposed to trust you if we don’t even know who you are or who you work for?” Gark asked.

“Shut your damn mouth!” the other man said obnoxiously, but the badge man calmed him with a wave of his hand.

“We are officers working for the Coruscant Police Department,” the man said after a moment of deliberation.

“Why would CorPD want in on this?” Gark asked. “This isn’t exactly the kind of case they typically work on.”

“That is why we need the information,” the man replied. “We need to build evidence against Mornd to finally be able to put out an arrest warrant for him. Up until now, we have nothing.”

“I’m sure that you’ll just be able to swarm in with some cops and take him down,” Gark commented snidely. “If you haven’t noticed, he escaped from a high-security prison without any help, and happens to be forming some kind of army in this abandoned old warehouse. Sounds like someone you can take down with a pocket knife.”

“Shut it . . .”

“Easy,” the badge man said. “I am Inspector Li. This here is K . . .”

“Karter,” the man said, holding out his hand. Gark was taken aback. Hadn’t this guy wanted to shoot his head off moments ago. “Jaymes Karter.”

“I’m not at liberty to give out that kind of information,” Gark replied.

“Not at liberty?” Karter asked. He grabbed Gark’s collar and picked him up a little. “Look, little man, you tell me your name, or I’m gonna whoop yo ass so hard you’ll be feelin’ it next week!”

“Karter!” Li exclaimed. “That’s not helping!”

“Look, Li, we need to get this info somehow!” Karter said. “If I need to hit this caped freak, so be it.”

“Finished,” Duckett said. All three heads turned to face him. Karter freezing in place gave Gark enough time to get out from his grip. “I’ve transferred the information to this disk for you, Inspector,” he said, handing Li a small device. “Now, let’s get out of here before we’re caught . . .”

“Too late,” Li said. Duckett turned his head. Ten soldiers, dressed in their sleek black armor, had their blasters trained on the four men down by the computer from an overhead catwalk. Several more were bearing down on their position, wielding a variety of heavy objects like pikes and, in one case, a piece of pipe.

“Li, there’s only ten of them trying to shoot us, and several more trying to whip our asses,” Karter said. “No biggie.” Li then began to gyrate his head a little bit, blinking as he went. “Man, what the hell are you trying to tell me?” the dark-skinned man asked, taken aback.

“You go this way, and I go that way,” Li stated.

“You go that way and I go this way?” Karter asked. He paused for a moment, and then both of them bolted towards the troops.

Li downed a trooper holding a pike by bringing his hands down on the trooper’s head and then finishing the man off with a shot to the chest. Karter swung his arms wildly, contacting a trooper in the mask. Karter withdrew his hand and yelled out in pain. The trooper swung at Karter’s head, making contact. The officer went down on the ground. “Li!” he shouted.

Li, who had been put in a headlock by another soldier, tossed the man over him and then punched the offending soldier in the chest. The trooper fell backwards onto the ground. Some of the shooters away from the action opened fire, spraying blaster bolts everywhere. Li looked up, and seeing that he was outnumbered, ran for the cover of some of the computer consoles. As he ran, he held his hands over his head, vainly trying to protect it from any blaster bolts that might come his way. Right behind him, blaster shots were nailing computer consoles, causing sparks to fly like angry dragons in the air and hardware to blow to bits. Apparently these soldiers were bad shots, and they weren’t afraid to shoot up their own equipment if they could kill an enemy from this distance. Especially one as dangerous as Li.

In all this commotion, Duckett had put his hacking items away in his pack, and was prepared to leave when a soldier came up and attacked him. Duckett reached out a hand, and curling it into a fist, hammered down on the soldier’s head. The trooper crumpled to the ground, but not before another one grabbed the Feeorin from behind and started to twist his arms behind his back.

Gark landed a solid kick to the face of one of the soldiers, causing the trooper to hit the deck. Following up with a series of blows, the Bothan was able to block the attacks of a pike-wielding soldier and then smashed the pike back in the man’s face. This caused the trooper to fall over backwards, landing right on top of another comrade.

Then Gark’s comm. unit buzzed. “I’m a little busy right now,” he said.

“Same here,” came Nat’alia’s voice. “It looks like we managed to stir up some trouble.”

“We have to get out of here in one piece,” Gark exclaimed to Duckett, who had just sent a swift kick to knock the trooper who had his arms pinned away from him.

“We could use some covering fire,” the Feeorin responded, joining Gark behind a pair of consoles. The shooters at the top of the catwalk kept firing, and more hardwire continued to be fried. Mornd was not going to be happy about his troops blowing up this room, but Gark didn’t want to find that out. He wanted to get out as fast as possible.

“What’s the fastest route out of here?” Gark asked, taking a look over his shoulder. He then had to duck quickly as a trooper’s blaster bolt whizzed right above his head and embedded itself in the wall.

“The way we came,” Duckett replied.

“Great,” Gark commented in a sarcastic tone. “And that’s where all the baddies are coming in from. Just great.”

“Heads down!” Dun Dun shouted over the comm. unit. The two did so, and they heard a horrendous explosion by the entrance to the room. The catwalk, which had been holding the ten shooters, shook free from its moorings and plummeted to the ground, taking the hapless troopers down with it. The surface made a hideous screeching noise as it slid down the wall, and then nailed the ground hard enough to send some shockwaves through the room. But the cloud of smoke from the explosion was enough so that no one could really see in front of their face. Gark felt a hand reach out for him, and he whacked it away.

“Hey!” Duckett exclaimed.

“Sorry,” Gark apologized. “I can’t see a thing.”

It took at least a minute for the smoke to clear enough to be able to see, and when it had cleared, Gark looked over the console once again. A wave of black-clad troopers entered the room, blasters at the ready.

“You still there?” Gark said over the comm. unit.”

“Yeah. Why?” Nat replied.

“Get ready, because we’re bringing the party to you,” Gark said. Flipping off his comm., he looked to Duckett. “We’re going to make a break for it.” He pulled out his blaster and checked the power pack. It was full, so he put it back in place.

“This is crazy,” the Feeorin said. “We need cover.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Gark warned. Then, without warning, he shot around the end of the console row and hid behind the next one before any of the troopers noticed his presence.

“How do we get out?” Li asked, looking at the Bothan.

“Follow me,” he said.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Karter commented. He then pulled out his blaster again. Gark jumped over the computer console and ran head-long at the troopers. They were shocked at what he was doing; it was a suicide charge. This pause gave him enough time to activate the grappling gun feature on his blaster. The anchor shot out of the barrel and found a mooring on the back wall. He hurtled up and over the troops right before they could spit fire in his direction. When he landed on the wall, he turned around and watched. Duckett, Li and Karter were still stuck behind the consoles, and the troopers were closing in on them. No one paid any mind to him for some reason; that was going to make things trickier.

“Hey, pea brains!” Gark shouted. All of the troopers looked back at him as he scaled down the wall. “Catch me if you can.” He then ran into the mess hall, and the troopers began to follow him in a rush.

The first thing that happened was Gark hitting a wet spot on the floor. Apparently the janitorial crew hadn’t been affected by all the commotion, and had done their job admirably. Gark landed hard on his back, and then had to get up quickly as he saw flashes of black armor in his peripheral vision. Groaning, he staggered to the far end of the mess hall. His presence surprised the janitor, who then came rushing at him with a wet mop. Gark easily handled the man, sending him to the floor with a swift kick to the chest. Now the room was filling up with troopers, and his companions were nowhere in sight.

“Freeze!” shouted a trooper.

“Like hell,” Gark muttered. But he didn’t have a plan.

Then the plan came to him. Dun Dun and Nat came rushing out of a door and slammed into the mass of troops. Nat kicked one soldier in the head and nailed another with her fist on an uppercut move, taking down both enemies. Dun Dun used his blaster rifle to gun down a soldier, then pumped the barrel again before turning and taking down another trooper. Taking a deep breath, Gark charged back into the fray, stepping on the foot of a soldier and then finishing the Barabel off with a haymaker to the side of the head. Apparently that head armor they wore was rather useless.

Finally, the other three came into the room. Duckett took his time as he sized up a trooper, while Karter and Li charged into the mess as well. Karter, flailing wildly, started to slap a trooper uncontrollably. Li grabbed a tray and used it to block a strike from a pike. Flipping the tray over, he caused the pike to fall onto the ground. He then smacked the trooper whom the pike belonged to in the head with the tray, causing him to fall to the ground. Li then tossed the tray into the gut of a charging soldier, sending him down as well.

“Li!” Karter yelled. “Help!” He was being punched in the gut mercilessly by a soldier, so Li went over and kicked the trooper in the head.

“Look out!” they both said, pointing to a soldier behind each of them. Clasping one hand together, they tag-teamed a mighty kick that knocked out both soldiers.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Karter exclaimed.

“Karter! Look out!” Li shouted. A trooper had his blaster aimed at Karter, and then took a shot. Li, not taking any time, flipped a chair into the air. The blaster bolt made contact with the chair and blew it to bits, but Karter was unharmed by the incident.

Meanwhile, Gark knew that they were losing the battle. More troopers kept streaming into the room, and his forces were getting tired. Then he could feel his mask being partially pulled off as he was slipped into a headlock. Grasping for air, he looked at the armor the trooper had on. He would love to bash his head into the arm to release himself, but that would probably cause him to feel a little dizzy afterwards. His mask began to slide up off his face, revealing his nose and his eyes. But then he heard a shot ring out, and the arm that had been grabbing him fell limp. Gark turned to see the soldier, a hole burning in the helmet, fall to the ground in a heap. He looked up and saw Bucky ready his sniper rifle for another shot. Taking two fingers on his left hand and putting them together, Gark fired off a military-style salute to the agent.

“I don’t see how this is a party,” Nat said as she came up to the Bothan.

“Join the club,” Gark replied. He placed his mask back on, and then continued to fight. He pulled out his blaster and whacked a trooper on the head with it, sending the man down. Nat brought a soldier down to his knees with a swift kick to the legs, and then brought her elbows down on his head. The soldier crumpled to the ground in pain.

“We need to get out of here soon,” she said. “We can’t hold them off forever.”

Then Gark had an idea. Plyer had told him how the blaster he was carrying had some sort of “excavator ray” built in. Although he didn’t know exactly what it was capable of doing, if he didn’t do anything they were all toast anyways. So he thumbed the button and held it down as Plyer had instructed. The blaster shuttered as it drew a massive amount of power from the power pack. Then it sat for a split second, in which things seemed to slow down, before letting out a mass eruption of pure energy. It blasted back quite a few troopers, and then succeeded in blow open a gaping hole in the side of the warehouse. A pipe had been obliterated, causing endless gallons of a strange liquid to pour out into the mess hall. A trooper who hadn’t been incinerated by the blast slipped on the liquid and went down. All eyes turned towards Gark, whose blaster was still smoking.

“Didn’t see that coming,” he remarked to no one in particular.

The remaining troopers were spooked, and ran out of the warehouse as fast as they could. Dun Dun smacked one in the back with his rifle, and Karter looked smug.

“That’s right! Y’all run away now!”

“Karter,” Li said, but it was no use trying to reign in his work partner.

“We whooped your asses so hard it’ll sting for a while!” Karter gloated. “Li, did you see that? That was a helluva thing! I mean, DAMN, man!” he said, turning to Gark. “Where’d you get that?”

“Come off it,” Gark said, placing the blaster back in its holster after it stopped smoking. “I just saved your life.”

“Take your information and go,” Duckett said. “Now.” He puffed out his chest a little bit so that he dwarfed even Karter, who looked scared.

“All right, man. We’re cool,” Karter said, bug-eyed. “We’re cool. Come on, Li. Let’s get back to the station.” The two, making sure not to slip in the liquid that was still spewing out of the broken pipe, walked out the hole that had been blown open moments before. This left the five agents inside.

“Let’s get out of here before the cops find us,” Dun Dun said. “If those two are cops, then a whole hive of them might descend on us, and then we’re toast.”

“Who’s worried?” Nat asked, a sly grin on her face. Kicking a downed trooper in the chest to keep him quiet, she walked out the same hole and into the natural light.

“I have to say. She’s one tough woman,” Bucky commented as he joined the others. “It’s like I’m invisible when she talks. It’s creepy.”

“Stop worrying about it,” Gark said, slapping the sniper on the shoulder on his way out. “Let’s get back to base and check out what's on that drive of ours.”

Calo Mornd frowned. He had just been notified that the secret base was totaled. When he had gone back to check the security footage, all he could see were his troops getting the crap kicked out of them by several people. One was a rather slim-looking woman, a scruffy man wearing a bowler hat and shooting troopers with a pump-action rifle, two men in black suits, of which one was very talented . . . and a caped figure. Calo wasn’t quite sure what in the hell to make of that; the person looked like someone who had read too many comics in their youth. But whoever they were, they were good. When the excavator ray exploded out of the blaster and blew a hole in the side of the base, Calo winced. He hadn’t expected that.

Then something came to mind. He had seen a mask come partially off. So he put up a static shot of the caped figure. Hm, it looked to be a Bothan. It couldn’t be . . . could it? No, Calo reasoned, this was nothing to worry about. He had another event to get ready for, one that wouldn’t be crashed. And this one was going to make him rich . . . very rich. He just had to hope that he got that done with before these new enemies of his could make a stand and fight. Because, given their skills, they would be formidable adversaries. Calo closed the screen and left the room; he had some things to brood on.

IC: Sydney TalonBakura Miners offices, Salis D’aar, Bakura“He’s expecting me,” Sydney said as he breezed by Cundertol’s assistant, brushing off whatever words she had to try to restrain him.He slapped the button for the sliding door and stepped inside to discover the Smug Dragon perched on the back of a reclining chair, eyes closed, plucking at a mandoviol held next to his ear. Quinn didn’t even flinch when the door opened, but methodically picked at the strings. Sydney waited for the door to close behind him.“And here I thought being an Elite League General Manager was actual work,” Sydney said dryly.“I’ll have you know I was in the middle of scouting when your vixen interrupted my assistant’s surfing of social media on the Holonet so I hope this is important,” Cundertol replied, eyes still closed.“Would I be here if it wasn’t?”Quinn looked out of the corner of his barely opened eyes at Sydney. “Barristers: one of the few highly paid professions that still insists on being paid at an hourly rate.”Sydney was done bantering with Cundertol by now. “Why did the GCAA just contact me regarding recruiting performed by the Miners?” he asked.“Didn’t you ask them?” Cundertol asked before plucking one of the strings.“Quinn, you need to square with me right now. You landed the two major college unsigned free agents this offseason in the Hapans. That’s got to be what they’re looking into. I need to know everything right now,” Sydney said seriously.Cundertol set the mandoviol aside and now fully opened his eyes to gaze upon Sydney. “I heard from sources that they didn’t want to get split in the Draft. I went to Chandrila before Week 7 last season to tell them if they declined to enter the Draft that the Miners would be interested in signing them at that time.”“Did they sign anything?” Sydney asked.“No.”“Did you give them any credits?”“No.”“Did you so much as buy them dinner or cab fare home?”“No.”“If all you did was have a conversation, I can work with that,” Sydney said, “I was able to delay them by asking for questions in written form to me. I’ll draft replies and copy you.”“You did what?” Cundertol said with displeasure, getting off the chair.“I was not about to shoot from the hip blindfolded,” Talon replied sharply, “If you’d told me about this I would have handled it on the spot.”“You’ve likely only whetted their appetite,” Cundertol shot back.“No, I gave us a situation we can control. Written replies give us the ability to craft finely turned legal arguments. Verbal responses let beings speak and when they speak, stupid things get said,” Sydney said.Cundertol stepped down and turned to go back to his desk. “It’s just the GCAA. What can they do to us?”“‘What can they do to us?’” Sydney echoed, “Do you want to know what they can do to us? The Draft is everything now. If they find us guilty of tampering with college players, they’re going to petition the Elite League to bar us from the Draft. Do you think unsigned talent, especially the good players, will sign with a team that’s been branded as violators by the GCAA? We are talking about one of the largest athletic institutions in the galaxy, Quinn. They have more reach than the Elite League, than the Premier League, than anyone. They are not to be trifled with.”“Make it go away,” Quinn said as he took up a file behind his desk, “It’s what we pay you to do.”“It’ll be taken care of,” Sydney guaranteed, “Have fun on Mandalore.”“Traveling across the galaxy to see the Mandos is only marginally more enjoyable than dealing with attorneys,” Cundertol quipped without looking up from his file.

Taab seethed with anger as his lawyer, Cruiser, went over things for what seemed like the hundreth time with him. Taab had to admit, things in the courtroom last week had gone just as the man had predicted, but that wasn't enough to satisfy him. He wanted to get off this soaking water world and get back to his team, and his ambitions.

When he had first met him he had wanted to kill the lawyer outright for his desires to plead Taab's seemingly inevitable sentence down. Then he had considered taking the man hostage in order to affect his own release. That idea died quickly though. The aiwha-bait were not likely to care for the life of a non-Kaminoan, so Taab would be making empty threats. No good. But maybe if this little man could buy him enough time he could come up with some semblence of an escape plan.

"Discovery continues, they say they have evidence that confirms your guilt. We are going to have to come up with a way to counter it." That cut through Taab's ruminations. Evidence? What evidence? He had thrown the body into the sea, letting the aiwha-bait live up to its nickname. There was no way they could have found it, and even if they did how had they connected it to him? He interupted the lawyer. "What evidence?" Cruiser looked taken aback. As if he knew that Taab hadn't been listening, which probably was the case. "They brought it up at the pre-trial, weren't you even listening then?" Taab had to admit he hadn't been. Instead he had been watching the movements of the guards, memorizing the layout of the justice complex, and trying to formulate a way to get off this rock.

"They have a holo of We Zaun's death, from your point of view."

Taab blinked his eyes considering that. From his point of view. The Kaminoans must have a recording of the murder from his own buy'ce. But how had they hacked it's systems? Or had someone else with access handed that information over? Understanding dawned on his face. Someone he knew was playing a dangerous game. Someone who thought they could get the best of him. Taab would now do his best to prove them wrong.

Cruiser stood up suddenly. "Well, that is enough for today Mr. Taab. I have what I need. I will see you in another week to go over more details." That was it? So suddenly? The confusion must have been apparent on Taab's face. "The firm does have other clients Mr. Taab. And if I don't leave soon I am going to be late for a meeting with one of them." He banged on the door to notify the guard that this meeting was over. But by that point Taab no longer cared. He had to get out of here, soon.

The whistle blew announcing a time out. Ryi was glad for it. Just a quarter of the way into the game and things were beginning to make last week's track meet look like a stroll around the block. Already 17 points had been scored in all and once again the high octane offense of the Mercs looked to be working like a well oiled machine. Ryi herself had 4 of her teams points, but she was being out done at the other end by the talented (and arrogant, and despised) Phil Brooks. The Jets corner forward could do no wrong and had accounted for seven of the Jets nine points so far. It was looking to be a long day.

Coach Vizsla used the timeout to make a few substitutions. This had become standard in this up-tempo scheme as the starters needed rest if they were to be fresh towards the end of the game. So Ryi took no special notice when K'Karlson stepped out onto the field to take Skirata's place at cornerback. What she did notice was Coach Vizsla grabing the Whipid by the tusks. She could barely make out what he was saying over the roar of the crowd, though she doubted anyone else was close enough to hear. "Brooks is killing us, but he favoring his left knee." Ryi had noticed it too, probably a lingering practice injury of some sort. It hadn't seemed to slow him down. "Sweep the leg." Ryi's eyes went wide and she gasped. That was an illegal move, K'Karlson would be kicked out of the game for sure if the refs saw it. But "Killer" didn't seem to mind, he just looked at Coach Vizsla and nodded emphatically.

The whistle blew again as the teams came out of the timeout, the ball started back at midfield and was quickly controlled by the Jets who fed it into Brooks. Ryi watched as he spun around, intent on another score, she was too far from the action to do anything about it. But K'Karlson wasn't. He dove at Brooks just as the Forward planted his left kleet into the soft earth of the field at Meshla Vhetin. The Whipid's shoulder connected with Brook's left knee bending it awkwardly in a direction opposite of what the human knee was designed to do. Brooks crumpled to the ground, holding his leg screaming as the ball popped out of his grasp and skittered away.

There was no time to pick it up though, an official's whistle blew again, stopping play and calling the foul. K'Karlson hadn't even made a pretense of going after the ball. The officials confered for a moment and decided to not only asses the foul but eject K'Karlson from the rest of the match. To his credit he went without arguement, though Ryi was sure that if Taab were here the officials would be hearing about it from him.

Brooks was carted from the field, he wouldn't be back for the rest of this matchup. But bacta was wonderful stuff, and Ryi was sure he would be fine for his next game. The ball was given to the Jets for a penalty shot, but they seemed rattled as the entire stadium started echoing with chants of "Killer, Killer!" In one instant the Whipid aruetii had made himself a hero for Mercs fans. And though Ryi was sure that he would be fined, and possibly suspended by the league for the hit, at the moment it was worth it.

The Jets missed their penalty shot and in fact every shot after that. They came completely unhinged and gave up 30 consectutive points. Ryi added another 10 (for a game total of 14) before coach pulled her with 10 minutes left in the second half. It was a rout. A team that had barely won just one game the season before had taken it to one of the Galactic Cup finalists from just a season ago. But next week would be even harder. Next week they had to take on the champs, and Ryi's personal nemesis, Alana Glencross.

IC: ???Dex's Diner, coco town, Coruscant

The man waited for his contact to arrive. In order to appear inconspicuous he had left his distinctive armor aboard his vessel and was sitting in one of the booths wearing simple trousers and shirt along with a well worn bantha hide jacket. Only the Westar blaster pistol on his belt and the heavy beskar boots he wore gave any indication of who he really was. But he doubted anyone would notice. A bell rang above the diner's doorway as another patron arrived. It was the man he was waiting for.

A droid approached the well dressed Mot Cruiser as he entered the diner but he ignored it as he took a seat across from the man. Shab the man thought to himself. he really does look like his father. Years ago the man had known this attorney's father, a starfighter pilot for the Republic fleet. Cruiser Sr. had been involved in a training accident that had killed his weapon systems officer and was in hot water with the brass. Fortunatly the man had also been working with the Republic at the time and had helped clear the elder Cruiser of all charges. For that, the Cruiser family owed him a debt. A debt that was about to be paid.

"You have it," the man stated to the young attorney. It was not a question, he knew Cruiser wouldn't have met with him unless he had what was asked for. "Of course I do," Cruiser whispered. "But keep this to yourself, I could get disbarred...or worse for this." He slid a data card across the table. The man quickly took it and pocketed it. "And it has all the information I requested?" This time it was a question.

"Yes. Layouts, schedules, patrol routes, everything you asked for." He paused looking scared for a moment. "I'm not stupid, I can figure out what you are planning to do here, I just want nothing to do with it." The man nodded at that. Apparently Cruiser the younger didn't have the guts and fortitude of his father. "I have your schedule too, I will ensure you are well away from Kamino when..." He was interupted.

"I said I could figure it out, not that I want to know. Besides my other client, the real one who hired me to defend Taab, won't be pleased at what you are planning." The man nodded again, he could understand that. Especially from an aruetii. As for "her" concerns, the man just didn't care "Payment then?" Cruiser got up to leave at that. "No, no money changing hands from you to me. I don't want anymore conection to you or your kind." He made his way to the door pausing halfway through. "But the debt my family owes yours? Consider it paid in full."

The man smiled as Cruiser left. That was as it should be. He pulled out the datacard for a moment, examining it before placing it back into a pouch on hs belt and then said to no one in particular. "As you wish."

Lucie woke up well rested. She never knew how much she liked this small apartment and she never had so much appreciation for the familiar feel and scent of her own bed. Out of habit Lucie glanced at her chrono, she didn’t have to get up for work anymore; she had finally given up her job. But old habits were hard to break and she was up early as usual. Unable to break free of her old routine she slipped into her running clothes headed out her door, down the hall, into the turbo lift and out the front doors of her building.

She was only mildly surprised to see coach Foress waiting for her on the corner less than a block away. After their breakfast he had insisted on walking her back to her building. “So now he’s not even waiting in the park anymore” Lucie mumbled to herself. Whatever was going on between her and coach was really making her nervous. There was no doubt she enjoyed the man’s company and appreciated his advice. On the other hand the coach was not only old enough to be her father; he was a father and a wife. Part of her wanted to tell the man to go away. Another part of her wanted to get closer to him. Yet another part of her was convinced she was interrupting this all wrong and it was just an innocent friendship.

As she approached the corner coach threw her a grin “Beautiful morning isn’t it?” he asked.

“A bit chilly, but okay” Lucie said wrapping her arms around herself. “Congratulations on the win. You must be really pleased with how well the team played.”

Coach motioned for them to begin jogging; once they got a rhythm going he began an analysis of the game. “It was nice to win again. Marmu is really shining out there, couldn’t believe she scored 5 times, but I’m worried she’s already becoming a bit of a ball hog.”

Lucie thought back to the game. Coach was right Marmu hadn’t passed much, but she was playing so well Lucie hadn’t even noticed. “I suppose” Lucie commented.

“Are you looking forward to the home opener?”

“Yes” she confirmed “no doubt about it. Best part about home games is the crowd appreciates us more. I feel so much more comfortable at home. How about you, think we can take the Storm?” she ventured to ask.

“I know we can win” coach said confidently. “Won’t be easy Storm are coming off a win themselves and every team we face this year will be out to get us even more than the other teams, because we’re new here and no one likes it when the new guys show up and start winning.” As they turned into the park Lucie lost her footing and tripped on a curb. Her knee smacked into the permacrete and she saw a blood stain as she started to get back up. “You okay?” Coach exclaimed, jogging back to check on her.

“I’m fine” Lucie said out of habit more than anything. She wasn’t seriously hurt, just a scraped knee, which was causing blood to run down her leg and stain her sock. “We can keep going” she added. Lucie may be a dancer, but she was tough and the knee really didn’t hurt.

“You don’t look fine to me. We should get you back home.”

“If it gets worse I’ll let you know, but I really don’t want to stop.” Lucie got back on her feet and started jogging.

Coach quickly joined her. “You’re as stubborn as my Limmie players” he commented with a smile.

The rest of their run was uneventful. Lucie’s knee was a mess though, when they got back to her building coach came upstairs and helped her clean it up. “I think you may as well throw away that sock he said as she pulled it off, the rim was covered in dried blood.”

“Definitely” she agreed. Lucie was embarrassed to have someone cleaning her up. She could do this herself, but she also couldn’t bring herself to turn down the assistance. “Once you’re done I can make some caf and eggs if you like” she offered.

“I’d love some” coach said. “But I’m afraid I’ll probably have to take them to go, the team will be showing up for practice soon.” He finished spreading ointment on the scrape and bandaged her up. “You’re all set” he said, giving her a gentle pat on the opposite leg.

Lucie quickly made her way to the kitchen and put the eggs and caf on. “I also have some fruit if you’d like” she said pulling out a plastic container he could take his breakfast in.

“Sure throw some in. I really appreciate this; I probably would have picked up a sugary pastry if you hadn’t offered. My diet usually goes down the drain during the season.”

Lucie quickly poured some caf in a thermos, placed the fruit and cooked eggs in the plastic container and held them out. “All set” she said “a good breakfast is important.”

Instead of grabbing the food he gently took her hand. “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Sure” Lucie said, slightly uncomfortable.

“Looking forward to it Coach confirmed. He grabbed the food and then leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. He made his way out the door before Lucie had a chance to react. Tag: No one

Sydney gave a final grimace as the bar stopped groaning and everyone began to settle their tabs. The Miner comeback on Mandalore was one shot off the bar by Rodders short of tying the game and taking them to overtime.

“Just can’t win at Mesh’la Vhetin,” the bartender said with a shake of his head.

“If the League weren’t a bunch of pansies and didn’t dither over a clearly reckless hit by K’Karlsson then maybe we would have never been in that hole,” Sydney said, “A whole week and Kayl’hen and Gondorf are silent? They fine Taab at the drop of a hat but they won’t suspend a player for a blatantly painful hit? Ridiculous.”

“Hey, you get a lawsuit together, put the bar down as the plaintiff. We’ll sue for lost damages from reduced beer sales since there was no overtime,” the bartender said.

“You know, you just might have a case,” Sydney said with a smirk, “Where’d you get so smart Zed?”

“I had to pick up something with you at my bar for all these years,” the bartender replied.

Sydney signed his receipt. “More likely it’s that kid of yours at Atalanta U.”

“See you next week for the Monarchs game?” Zed asked.

“No,” Sydney said simply, “I’m going to be out of town.”

“Force,” Zed said, “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it. Have a good couple weeks. See you for Vandelhelm, Zed.”

“Take care Sydney. Send my regards.”

“I will, thanks,” Sydney said.

Fleetfire Zarmer offices, Salis D’aar, Bakura

Sydney gave the letter a final, careful review before he buzzed Mara.

“Send it.”

“You got it, boss,” she replied.

To the Committee on Infractions,

This letter is in reply to the inquiry made by the Committee regarding the Bakura Miners’ (hereafter, “the Miners”) recruitment of Misses Morgan Alesh and Becki Morlan of the Chandrila Agricultural & Mechanical University in 270 ABY. At this time, the Miners make the following replies to questions put by the Committee:

The Miners engaged in conversations with Misses Alesh and Morlan prior to the official end of their collegiate career to gauge their interest in joining the Miners as undrafted free agents. Mr. Quinn Cundertol, General Manager, represented the Miners in these conversations.

At no time in these conversations was an offer of employment made to either Misses Alesh or Morlan.

No cash payments were made to Misses Alesh or Morlan during the period as student athletes.

Misses Alesh and Morlan signed entry-level contracts after the expiry of their term as student athletes. The Miners wish to note that their contracts were signed after the Elite League Draft had concluded.

The Miners hope that these responses will be useful to the Committee in their debates.

"The Elite League has reviewed footage from Game 9 of the 272 season between the Mando'ade Mercs and the Vandelhelm Jets," Esther Gondorf told the press, "After reviewing the footage, the League is suspending K'Karlson of Mando'ade for the next three games of the regular season, which will comprise Weeks 4, 5, and 6. The severity of this suspension is due to the fact that there was a clear intent to injure another player, a behavior that the League cannot react strongly enough against. Mr. K'Karlson will forfeit all pay to the Disabled Players Fund."

"Esther, why did it take over a week for the League to announce this suspension if it was that bad?" one reporter asked.

"Because we were also conducting an investigation into whether or not Adenn Vizsla, head coach of the Mercs, incited Mr. K'Karlson to behave in the way that he did. After an exhaustive inquiry, the League was unable to find evidence to support such a claim, despite initial allegations to the contrary. Thank you, that is all for today."

Limmie Hall of Fame, Empress Teta

"The Limmie Hall of Fame has finished its annual balloting," a dignified Pau'an said to the assembled media, "But before we proceed to the new inductees, which unlike certain other sports we do indeed have this year, I would like to call attention to two new exhibits that the Hall will be featuring in 272 on some of its existing members.

"We are rapidly approaching the 300th anniversary of Jipoly Numifolis' first game of professional limmie for Team Coruscant. Accordingly, the Hall is beginning a special exhibit that celebrates both his athletic achievements--mainly as a member of Team Coruscant in the Golden Age of Limmie where he won five league titles--as well as his efforts to grow the sport of limmie both on Coruscant and throughout the Core. Indeed, without Mr. Numifolis' efforts it is doubtful that limmie would be as prominent as it is today.

"Additionally, the Hall will be featuring another great Coruscanti limmie player, Anki Rysowt. Mr. Rysowt was a 16 year veteran for the Coruscant Senators organization and was a legend second only statistically to his fellow Hall of Famer Lysander Perkins in points scored and bar points scored to this very day. Mr. Rysowt's long and dedicated career, in which he is first in Senators history in minutes played, is an exemplar of dedication to limmie and an inspiring one for all visitors to the Hall.

"And now, what I suspect most of you have come to hear: the 272 Hall of Fame inductees," the Pau'an said. He bowed his head and opened up a sealed envelope. "I will not bore you with the accounting mumbo jumbo. I direct you to our attorneys for all of the legal disclaimer. Yes, even the Hall of Fame has been infected by attorneys these days." This drew a chuckle.

"Our first inductee is Petra Givens, known as "The Hammer", who was a Full Back for the Coruscant Senators in the 220s, ABY. She was one of the greatest defensive players in her era, setting records in deflected passes and forced fumbles thanks to her speed and strength on the field of play.

"Our second inductee is Reina Kether, who spent her entire career as a Chandrila Patriot and took home no less than three Galactic Cups, all in the Crendan Era, appeared in seven Galactic Cup Finals, served as captain for all seven appearances, won a Salbukk Award in 246, and the Numifolis Award in 247. Ms. Kether is third overall in points scored for a Patriot--and her impressive totals would be first overall for a great number of other organizations, I assure you.

"And our third, and final, inductee for 272 is, Marte Nalo. Mr. Nalo, only recently retired from coaching the Euceron Storm, achieved his greatest success as head coach of that team where he led the team to five Premierships in one of the most competitive eras of the Premier League. It is appropriate that Mr. Nalo be inducted alongside Ms. Kether as he was the architect of the high-flying Chandrila offense that in 247 won the Galactic Cup.

"The Hall looks forward to welcoming all three of our 272 inductees to Empress Teta for their induction ceremony."

"Mr. Taab, I have explained this before. The longer we push back the trial date, the better things are for you in this case."

Taab and Crusier were again meeting in one of the small interogation rooms in the justice complex. They had always been assured that their conversations would remain between them, but Taab didn't trust that, just as he didn't trust his aiwha-bait jailors. He looked warily around before responding, "and just how does this help me?"

Crusier sighed loudly, exasperated. "Mr. Taab, the longer we hold out here the more likely they are to want to make a deal. It is just more cost effective for them to make a deal as opposed to wasting time, effort and man hours responding to every petition I place before the court." Taab nodded as if he understood, but he didn't really believe it. The aiwha-bait wanted his head on a platter, and they were sure to pull out all the stops to ensure that they did so.

"Besides, the longer it takes to go to trial the more things can go wrong for them. Evidence misplaced, witnesses become forgetful..less credible. or even die. Make no mistake, we hold the cards here Mr. Taab." Taab rubbed his face now, was this attorney really saying what Taab thought he was saying? He looked at him, staring into his eyes. He may have misjudged this man. "And does this have anything to do with your urgent meeting last week? You remember, you were so eager to leave after our last meeting."

Cruiser swallowed visably. No Taab hadn't mis-judged him. Cruiser wasn't behind anything, but maybe he worked for others who were.

"You want answers?"

"I think I'm entitled."

"You want answers?"

"I want the truth."

"Mr. Taab, you can't handle the truth." Cruiser said calmly before he packed up his briefcase and banged on the door to be let out.

IC: Ryi Kor'leMeshla Vhetin, gameday vs Bakura Miners

This was it, this was the game that so many Mercs fans had circled on their calenders when the schedule had been released. The Miners had been the Mercs biggest rivals since their entry into the league. the feud between Alana glencross and Ryi kor'le had helped fan the flames of that rivalry and now the Miners were here, in the meshla Vhetin, as defending Galactic Cup Champions. It had all the makings of a great game, and was made even more important as both teams came in at 2-0. The winner of this match had the inside track at taking the Solo Conference crown.

One day at a time Ryi was forced to remind herself. There was a lot of season left, and anything could happen, and any team still make the playoffs. Still it added to the allure of the game, and was something even the schedule makers couldn't have known when they had published the schedule before the beginning of the season. The mando'ade faithful had filled the stadium to capacity and additional seating had been added for this game. Ryi saw the number flashing on the oversized holo-screen above the field 4.7 million in attendence. She and her team mates would have to do their part to ensure that those fans would witness a match to remember.

And what a match it was. The Mercs took control early, taking a quick lead as their young midfielder Mor'kesh stopped short and fired the ball past a stunned looking Glencross. Mor'kesh looked around sheepishly surprised himself that he had taken, and made such a shot, but it had earned them a point and set the tone forthe entire first half. The game started to move more quickly now, and the ball went up and down the field. but the Mercs were making the most of their opportunities, while the Miners were stymied by good defense and even better goaltending. Ryi could see the frustration in the eyes of the Miner's players as they headed down the tunnel at halftime with the Mercs ahead 20-3. This game was becoming a rout and the Mecrs players and the fans in the stands could feel it.

Little did they know how different the second half would be. It started with two quick Miners goals, making the score 20-9. The Mercs responded with their own goals building a 20 point lead, but then the miners seemed to really strike back. Ryi found herself getting frustrated as shots she took were effortlessly batted away by the Miners goaltender, while at the other end Rodders or even Glencross could do no wrong. She started watching the clock after each score, hoping now to just survive this matchup as opposed to blowing the Miners out.

22 minutes remaining: Mercs up 29-14. Rti spun around trying to get an open shot at the net but was denied. Instead she passed off to Kote, but the ball was intercepted and a few moments later the Miners capitalized. It was now 29-15.

16 minutes remaining: Mercs were still up, but the score had narrowed, 29-18. Ryi prepared to take a pass up from Mor'kesh but cringed as he was taken out by Glencross. No foul was called and the red-headed midfielder grabbed up the takeway and headed downfield with it.

9 minutes remaining: Mercs up 29-24. Things were getting extremely tense out on the field. Ryi could feel the strain, but they were still winning. Finally something went their way as she took a shot that went over the bar ending what had been a 15-0 Miners run. But the game wasn't finished yet.

3 Minutes to go, Mercs up 30-24. Ryi was just starting to feel that perhaps they would be bale to pull this one out, but it was desparation time for the Miners too. Rodders beat K'Karlson on an outstanding fake and took a clear shot at the goal. Katan was caught out of position and the ball sailed through hitting the back of the net. Coach kal called his last timeout and made sure all the starters were back in for the last few minutes. "Go for the kill. No mercy." was all he said.

Ryi understood. They weren't just going to play it safe, or play not to lose. Now was the time to play for the win. If the Mercs could score just one last time it would assure them of the win. the ball came out from midfeild where Mor'kesh once again beat out Glencross for the ball. He passed it up to Ryi who tried to create her own shot.

But nothing was there. As they had for the entire second half the Miners defense swarmed her. She looked for an outlet pass, but Kote and the others were covered up too. Just how many Miners did they have back on defense? she thought to herself as the ball was swatted out of her hands. It moved quickly upfield first to Glencross, then to Rodders before being passed off. Ryi found herself looking up at the clock again. there were only second left now as the Miners were setting themselves up to take the game's last shot and send them into overtime. From the play of the second half it was clear to her that the Mercs wouldn't stand a chance in the extra frame.

The ball came back to Rodders deep in the Miner's offensive zone, he had gotten past the Mercs defense and was alone against second year goaltender Katan. The ball shot out of Rodders arms like a blasterbolt, towards the corner of the net. Katan leaped, in the opposite direction that the ball was headed. He had guessed wrong where Rodders would shoot the ball and now Ryi was certain that an overtime loss was in the team's future. But the shot missed, instead clanging off the bar and ricocheting back out onto the field as the final horn sounded. Somehow the Mercs had survived.

The crowd roared in appreciation, this was surely a game for the ages and would be replayed on HLN Classic: Games that almost got away. Many of the Mercs fans seated behind the goal mocked Rodders by going through an exagerated version of his (not really) patented "move". But the players on the pitch didn't mock him at all. Instead players from both teams came together hugging one another and congratulating each other on one of the finest meshgeroya matches some of them had ever played. Askah Kol in particular made a point of going to each Miners player and staff member that he had once played with. The Mercs halfback had started out with the Miners, had played years with them and now that he was retiring after the end of this season he wanted to say a special goodbye to them.

Ryi found herself standing next to an exhausted Alana Glencross. Both of their hair was matted with sweat and their game jerseys dripped with persperation, but Ryi soon found herself hugging her rival. She wasn't sure why she had embraced her rival, all she knew was that she had the nagging feeling she would never get the chance to again.

Gark looked at his players in stony silence. In a few minutes, they would take to the pitch to face off against the Rydonni Prime Monarchs, a team just as hungry as the Senators were for a win. A win here for Coruscant would mean a step in the right direction at 1-2, going into the first road game of the season with a win and momentum. A loss, drop to 0-3 and almost throw in the towel. No one wanted that, but what could they do now? Two tough losses had started off the season, and now the team was stuck in a hole. Only a win could rectify that; no close losses were going to mean anything now. Only wins would count.

For the first time that season, Gark felt unsure of what he was going to do. Sure, he had made some changes to his starting lineup, but Venn hadn’t started in goal at the Elite League level in several years. Was he foolish in taking out Leed in favor of the veteran who had helped lead the Wroona Islanders to a IRLL title last season but who had little starting experience in the Elite League?

“None of us want to be here,” he finally said. “Two losses, and no wins. This is our third home game, and yet we don’t have a single victory to show for it. But I don’t need to tell you how things have gone so far this year. We look sluggish on offense, stagnant in the midfield and on defense, and . . .,” he looked at Jayla, who didn’t look back. “Rough in goal.

I’m not going to make you feel better about this, all right? This is Coruscant; these fans expect a lot from us. And, so far, we’ve managed to lose to two of our old punching bags. At home, no less. So what if Vandelhelm is good? We should have beaten them. The Storm should have gone back to Euceron in a shipping crate, bandaged and bruised. But we didn’t finish the job. We let our fans down. We let ourselves down. That is not what we do here with the Senators. We’re better than this.

The Monarchs think they’re real tough. They are rolling in awards these days, and it’s gotten to their heads a little bit. We like awards too, but you know what wins them? Heart. They have that. We don’t. We don’t have enough conviction to pull out wins. I want to see all of you play like champions today, because we are! Cam,” he said, pointing to the second-stint Senator. “What did we do in 262 when we lost our first two games? What happened the next week?”

“What about Week 6?” Gark asked Shev. “What was the result that week?”

“Victory,” the Noghri replied.

“Week 7?” Gark asked Shayt.

“We won,” the Feeorin said dutifully.

“What about the Semis?” Gark asked, pointing to Polis.

“We won,” the assistant captain said.

“And the Galactic Cup Final, against those sorry frakkers from Kashyyyk. What did we do?” he asked, looking at long-time captain Dirxx.

“We won,” the Besalisk said.

“That’s right. We won,” Gark replied. “We started 0-2, and then won seven straight to take home the Cup. No one expected us to win that title. But we did. Everyone had counted us out. But we proved them wrong. I stand here in front of you at 0-2, in a deep hole. We’ve lost our games thus far, and people are counting us out. But we can win. It all starts here. One game, one more chance to prove our worth. Let’s go out and show the Monarchs that you can knock us down, but we’ll get right back up again. Let’s finish this deal and get back on track! Offense, I want that ball moving faster than a ship in hyperspace. Midfield, make them run and make ‘em pay when they get too involved in the offense. Defense, I want you to be tighter than an air lock. Suffocate them. Venn . . . good luck,” was all he said. There was no real strategy in being a goalie except being in the right place at the right time.

“Let’s win this game and be back on the track to the Cup,” Gark said. “Seven straight. We can do this, so let’s get the ball rolling, shall we?”

When the team hit the field, they were fired up. The crowd, taken out of it after two straight losses, saw this and revved back up to speed. It was Coruscant Limmie time, and the fans were in for a treat.

The game was, simply put, a laugher. It was like a lid had been put on the goal behind Venn; nothing was going in, save for two bar shots. Every time the Monarchs charged the goal area, the Senators defense was there to make the play, or Venn made a save on the ensuing shot. A strong defensive play typically set up a strong charge into the other areas of the field, typically with the ball in Coruscant’s hands. It was the Senators team that the fans had expected to see Day One, the kind that roughed up other teams with depth, physical play, and conviction. The team out here was driven, and the Monarchs were paying the price.

Offensively, the Senators couldn’t have done much better. Polis, who had been stymied for the previous two games, finally broke out with a double-digit scoring game, notching his hat trick early on in the second half. That had been the point where Gark started pulling his starters; there was no reason for them to get injured in such a rout, especially not with a trip to Nar Shaddaa looming the next week in the Rim War, but he also didn’t want his starters to get too uppity out there. He had seen what a rout did to players’ egos, and it wasn’t pretty. He wanted his team focused for the next week, and the starters had done their job. Riff and Jet each added in 2 goals apiece in a balanced scoring attack from the forwards line.

The defense had been superb. The mainstays there looked like they had never aged one day since their prime, making plays and harassing the Monarchs all game long. When the defensive zone was in peril, a play was made. It was usually never pretty, but Limmie wasn’t a graceful game. It was won in the trenches, with the hard-hitting Senators preying on any opposing players who got too close. Fill-in starters Eldis Dumerville and Myles Tormera both looked excellent in their first starts of the season, mixing well with the four standout Senators defenders to create an impermeable wall for the bolo ball.

But it was the midfield where Gark had noticed the most difference. All four of his middies had played well. Laryssa, although she had yet to record a point on the season, meshed well in her role, setting up plays and generally doing her bit. Izzi played strong defense, almost giving the defense a seventh defensive back with the way she plugged up the middle. Alysha had been her old self; although she had only scored one point on the game, two for the season, she had been a force in the middle of the field. The biggest bright spot was Demetra; the rookie had scored her first ELL goal in this game, and tacked on another one later on. Her defense still was average at best, but her offensive skills were being put on a show. She finally looked composed, something that Gark had Ravil work with the rookie on during the last few weeks.

Now the Senators were 1-2, and on their way to Nar Shaddaa. Gark knew that this was going to be a tough game as usual; the Smugglers had lost their first game of the season, and were no doubt ready to cap their rivals. It was going to be interesting to see how much momentum from this game would transfer over; everything depended on momentum in this game. But, at least for a few moments, Gark knew that he could be satisfied with his team’s effort. One game down, six to go.

ICFleetfire Zarmer offices, Salis D’aar, BakuraMara Kain was going about her business on what was otherwise a happy preweekend day. It had been a pretty good day—she’d heard from Melinza in M&A that things were not going well with the Dawes deal. If the news continued to be bleak she’d have to kick that one up for Harvey’s attention. He could use some good press with M&A these days. But on top of that Margeorie had dropped by some cookies—oatmeal raisin dark chocolate. Divine. Then again, Margeorie could use improving her standing in the legal secretarial pool after she nearly blew the scheduling for the Chapter 7 bankruptcy hearing last month. She’d have to do a lot more cooking before she was back in Mara’s good graces.Mara’s comm buzzed with an incoming call. It had an interstellar code…Prefix definitely Coreward…not Coruscant…Empress Teta? No. She ran through the standard prefixes in her head. Corellia, Chandrila, Brentaal, Anaxes…nope. She had no course but to just pick up.“Sydney Talon’s office,” Mara answered.“I need to speak to him now,” was the terse reply.“I’m sorry, Mr. Talon isn’t available,” Mara replied sweetly, “I’ll take a message.”“I don’t care. Pull him out of whatever meeting he’s in and put him on.”“Excuse me?” Mara said, offended, “I will absolutely not. Are you even a client?”“This is Quinn Cundertol. Now put Sydney on right now.”“Quinn Cundertol?” Mara repeated, “Well in that case—no. He’s not available. But I am for dinner tonight.” She twirled a strand of hair around her index finger as she thought about those cheekbones with a cheeky grin as she bit the left side of her lower lip.“What?” Cundertol replied in confusion before regrouping, “I’m on Rydonni Prime and I need to speak to Sydney now. Put me through to his comm if he’s not available.”“Sydney is completely unavailable today, Mr. Cundertol, but I am very much available, especially for you,” Mara said leaning forward on her elbows at the desk. She waited for a reply. And then she realized the connection had been severed.“Damn it!” Mara exclaimed. She was just starting to get somewhere good with him.Three minutes later Lizsen Fleetfire’s private line on her holoprojector began pinging. That code was given out to a select few individuals, clients that Lizsen always took the calls of. She didn’t even hesitate to activate it—and get the image of Quinn Cundertol.“I got the number from Eldred,” Cundertol said before the question could be asked, “I need Talon now.”“Is there a problem?” Lizsen asked calmly, in contrast to the obviously agitated Eriaduan.“A problem? His gatekeeper is rebuffing me when I’ve just gotten this—” he held up a datapad, “—informing me that the GCAA has opened up a formal investigation into the A&M recruiting matter and now I’m hearing that they’re calling Alesh and Morlan to testify to the COI in the middle of the season? How am I supposed to run a season when I have this dewback and eopie show? And where is Talon? He said this was going to be taken care of!”“I will try him on his…” Lizsen started, and then she saw the date. Very carefully she folded her hands on her desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cundertol, but the matter will have to wait. Mr. Talon is unavailable.”“Then what are we paying you for?” Cundertol demanded, “Get him now.”“I couldn’t if I tried,” Fleetfire said, “I don’t think a minor delay will hurt things too much. But, as managing partner of this firm, I can practice law when required. Has the Committee set a hearing date with Alesh and Morlan?”“No, just that they’re going to be called upon to provide testimony.”“I suggest that you recommend to Gaeriel Valerii that she begin intensive practices. In fact, you might want to lose yourself on Super 16 recruiting somewhere nice and remote for a couple of days,” Lizsen suggested.“Just get Talon,” Cundertol said before breaking the connection.The managing partner stood from her desk and immediately left it to walk down to where Mara Kain sat. “Cundertol spoke with you I assume?”“What did he want?” Mara asked.“It’s not important right now,” Lizsen said, “Just have Sydney contact me when he’s back. Immediately.” She gave a sharp exhalation. “Damned fine day for this to happen.”“Today’s never a good day,” Mara replied as she turned back to her terminal.Lizsen walked away. How true…

Sydney sat in a window seat on the regional high-speed monorail that connected the major urban areas of Bakura, looking out the window. Dressed in casual attire, similar to his Miners game day wear, Sydney looked out the window of the monorail not at the near objects that sped by but at the far off, distant features of the landscape. Across this region of the planets they were the snow-capped mountains.The journey would have been shorter if he’d taken an intraplanetary shuttle. It would have been more enjoyable if he had rented a speeder from his club for a few days.But this wasn’t about speed or enjoyment. It was about fulfilling a duty. It was about making amends.The Grande Villa, Rydonni PrimeThis was not the Miners’ first visit to the Grande Villa, but it was to Fighting Fourth Field. As Alana Glencross, Aron Rodders, T.K., Corrie Andersen, and the whole gang stood in the tunnel waiting to go out it was an uncomfortable feeling. They knew what they represented as the Miners. They were Kerry Trieste’s team. The Chancellor’s team. The Chancellor who had called up the reserves, who had asked for the service of so many Monarchs, who had likely won an election on their backs, on their lives.“Is it me or is this awkward?” Alana asked Aron behind her.“It makes a being feel small,” was all Aron said.Elwood Corners, BakuraSydney stepped off the train. Though there were a couple taxis queued and waiting for riders, Sydney passed them by. There was a dampness in the air, as if it was going to rain, or maybe just had. Knowing Bakura, either was possible.Elwood Corners was not much of a town. It was a small community. The only reason that it even had a stop on the high-speed monorail was because it was slightly bigger than the other towns around it and far enough away from anything else of decent size to warrant a stop. It existed in one of those indeterminate spaces between the major urban areas that Bakuran society centered around. It wasn’t even a Golden Prairie, the major hub of the Telaan Valley that at least brought the small farming communities together. Elwood Corners was the sort of town that had once been prevalent on Bakura and still was, though to a lesser extent.There was one high school, one middle school, one elementary school. There were two supermarkets. There was one bakery and one public library. There was a clinic with two doctors and one dentist of not dubious quality…but Sydney probably wouldn’t have gone to him.Where he did go was the local liquor store, which had been manned by the same guy every time Sydney walked in and got a couple bottles of really good whiskey from the shelf behind the counter. Sydney usually had a little pride and went for Bakuran distilled spirits but when he came to Elwood Corners he always went with the Corellian stuff. It had the right bite behind it.So he did today.The Grande Villa, Rydonni PrimeThe Miners stood, heads bowed as they listened to the Rydonni Prime national anthem. Hands on their hearts. It wasn’t something they did for every game (heck, Alana hadn’t even watched the ridiculous dha wha verda or whatever it was called last week—she’d seen that quite enough as it was), but today was a day to show respect. It was also a day to put Dawn Solo’s mug into the turf, but that would come later.Alana did happen to look up though, ever so discreetly, to find the visiting owner’s box. The Trieste clan was there as ever and the Chancellor was in the forefront. Her usual dark blue dresses were apparently elsewhere. Ever the mindful politician, she was wearing black today to acknowledge her first visit to Fourth Field as well. (It was not to Alana’s discredit that she could not see the discreet blue and yellow sash that tied off the Kerry’s waist—after all it was quite a distance from the field to the box.)Glencross lowered her head as a wind picked up her fiery locks to give it a gentle wave.Elwood Corners, BakuraSydney tried the gate with just enough force to cause the lock to rattle. He didn’t have to wait long before an elderly Bith came to the gate. It wasn’t common to find non-Humans outside of the urban cities on Bakura. Sydney had never asked the Bith how he’d come to Elwood Corners.“Sydney,” the Bith said, unlocking the gate for him.The attorney wordlessly gave one of the bottles of whiskey to the Bith and stepped inside. The Bith gave Sydney a pat on the shoulder as the Human passed him before reclosing the gate.Sydney walked across the neatly mowed grass, along the rows of tombstones. His path was one made familiar by the passage of years, an annual journey that brought him to one in particular.

KELVIN TALON

201 ABY – 265 ABY

“Hey Dad,” was all Sydney said.He took two glasses from out of the pocket of his jacket, opened the bottle of whiskey, and poured into each glass. One glass he balanced on the top of his father’s grave. The second he set down with the bottle on the grass next to where he propped himself up against Maura Redgrave’s headstone. (Though Sydney had never met Maura, he felt a certain kinship with her as a result of borrowing her plot of land for the last six years.)From his jacket, Sydney removed his datapad, and turned the volume up.“…and the Miners are now set at their starting positions. It’s looking like it’ll be a good one as the beings from Bakura look to shake off last week’s almost-comeback off and get to .500 in their Solo Conference record…”Sydney picked up his glass and drank as he listened to the game with his dad.Tag:
@CPL_Macja

The day of the home opener was a cold one. At least Lucie thought it was cold. She compared performing in uniform on cold winter days to jumping into freezing water with only a revealing swimsuit to cover you. Luckily this was a home game. She led her squad around the perimeter of the field waving their pom poms in greeting to the fans. The fans enjoyed the greeting and she got to warm up a bit. It was always interesting to see the striking differences in fan behavior. Some were bundled up drinking hot caf. Others wore no shirts at all and gulped iced beverages.

After the lap around the field Lucie was beginning to forget the cold. Her smile was genuine as she led her squad out onto the field for some pre-game cheers and a quick dance number. She had assigned herself to a group that stayed just outside the Storm’s goal to keep her distance from Coach during the game. She doubted anything distracted him during games, but she knew he might distract her. Just the sight of him made her nervous. She was afraid to say hello, that someone might notice and suspect something. Maybe it was silly, but that was how she felt and in order to concentrate on her job she decided to keep her distance on game day.

The first half was great. The Starkillers came out with a strong start and Marmu was just as hot as she had been against the Smugglers. This time Lucie paid more attention to her play. She had to agree with Coach, she wasn’t much of a team player. Every time she got the ball she attempted to score, never passing off to Loren or Galen even though it often looked like they had a better more open shot. By the end of the first half Lucie could tell that Loren was getting especially frustrated with her teammate. The score was 18 – 3 Starkillers.

During the halftime show some mean looking clouds moved in over the sun. They brought a bone chilling wind with them. Even with all the maneuvers and quick thinking Lucie was doing to make sure the show went off without a hitch Lucie could feel her teeth chattering and see goose bumps forming on her skin.

The entire second half was downright miserable for everyone. An icy mix of precipitation fell and neither team scored a single point. Lucie began sending half her dancers at a time inside to warm up for 5 minute shifts. Several of the Starkillers and Storm alike were slipping on the slick field. Many of the fans headed out early. Lucie caught herself with her arms and legs crossed trying to keep warm more than once. Very unprofessional, but she hoped if anyone caught her they would understand.

After the game Lucie sat with hot herbal tea and an old coat Bough loaned draped over her shoulders trying to warm up in the make shift studio at the stadium. She dismissed everyone as soon as the game ended telling them to go home and get warm. They could go over any performance issues during the week. When she got up to leave she noticed that Coach Foress was standing in the hall. She wrapped the old coat around her even tighter, gave him a brief nod and headed home.

The next morning when Lucie awoke there was a large package at her door. She opened it and discovered a large warm designer coat. There was a note attached “You looked cold yesterday, thought you could use this” it was signed “Coach”. TAG: NO ONE

Gark flipped through news articles on a datapad. It was the usual assortment of crap that the media were pushing; celebrity news of no real consequence, sports stories about messed-up athletes, some major strikes going on other planets over perceived issues . . . just the usual mumbo-jumbo of galactic media. He sighed and turned off the datapad.

Over the last three weeks, he had been thoroughly exhausted. Although Limmie offered a respite every week, he still felt tired. He had been on street patrol almost every night, kicking the crap out of thugs and breaking up minor crime syndicates with the help of his strike team. On the news, he was starting to gain quite the reputation. A few days earlier, there had been a decently-long story on him. Quite a few people were interviewed about what they saw, and most of them were positive in the outlook. He was being called a hero after saving the lives of kidnapped children, or saving a woman from a burning building, or taking out notorious MidTown spice smugglers. All the while, his reputation on Coruscant was building.

“Hey, sounds like someone’s got quite the honor!” Dun Dun said as he entered the room.

“How so?” Gark asked, not looking up from the table.

“Listen to this,” the man said. He called up a song on the HoloNet, and it began to play.

“One, two, three, four!
Bothanman, Bothanman, Does whatever a Bothan can
Kicks some ass in this town, makes sure the job is done
Look out, it’s the Bothanman!”

Two minutes later, Dun Dun turned off the song and looked back at Gark, who was giving him an odd look. What the hell had that been?

“You didn’t like it?” the large man asked.

“It was . . . weird,” Gark said.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain about it too much,” Dun Dun replied. “You’re certainly playing the hero card well these days. They even write a song about you. Not bad.”

“But I’m not exactly close to the main objective,” Gark said, sighing again. “We’re still no closer to Mornd’s whereabouts than we were before. Those files we stole from his warehouse compound? They were bogus?”

“Bogus?” Dun Dun said, taken aback. “You mean all that was for nothing?”

“Yep,” Gark said. “And now he knows someone’s on his tail. We need to tread carefully now. Besides, I have to go on the road this week for a game, so I won’t be around to do anything.”

“You need to hope he doesn’t zero in on you being the man behind the mask,” Dun Dun surmised.

“That’s what everything depends on,” Gark said. “We’re not out of the woods yet, because I fear that the hardest part has yet to come.”

Marte sipped his caf and checked the HoloNet for the news. A bank robbery and three murders in the gang-infested east end of town, another school tax levy on the ballot. Force, don’t they tax us enough already? He was about to give up and close the terminal when a story caught his attention. Something about a superhero on Coruscant? That was... decidedly not your typical news story. Marte read the piece with interest. Apparently an unidentified Bothan, going only by the name of Superbothan, was being hailed as a hero after, to put it mildly, a bunch of good deeds and kicking criminal's butts, sometimes literally. Marte shook his head in amusement as he tried to suppress a chuckle. Who'da thunk that the comic books he read as a kid on Frego would, in a way, come to life? He knew Tendra would get a kick out of the story, but she wasn't up yet, so Marte bookmarked the page and moved on.

A few minutes later he glanced out the window and was surprised to find near white-out conditions outside. He checked the weather radar and discovered that the snow, to put it simply, was here to stay for the day, as local meteorologists were calling for around a meter of snow.

"Good thing they have a roof on the stadium now," came the voice from behind him, causing Marte to jump.

He turned around to find his wife behind him. "How many times have I told you not to scare me like that?"

Jaria ignored the question as she realized a different problem. "How are fans going to get to the stadium in this?"

Marte looked outside and considered his inability to see the tree in the front yard, ten meters from the window. "Very slowly?" he offered.

"Too slow and you'll have to stop every couple of minutes to clean off the windscreens. And don't even think about trying it in an open cockpit speeder."

"Good point. Closing the roof doesn't help if you can't get there in the first place. The Jets could even be stuck at the hotel. The League might have to reschedule the game, and I don't know what the procedures are for that."

"Looks like the snow is letting up a little bit," said Jaria. "I can at least see across the street."

"Then maybe they won't have to reschedule it after all," said Marte. "Too bad we can't see it on HSN. Second-smallest stadium in the Elite League and we can't sell it out."

"Six straight seasons with a losing record will do that."

Tendra wandered into the room. "I'm bored."

"Then clean your room," replied Marte and Jaria at once.

Tendra grinned. "Done, and I'm still bored."

"What do you mean, 'done'?" asked Marte.

"I cleaned it last night while you two were out doing all that mushy stuff."

Jaria folded her arms across her chest. "Tendra, that 'mushy stuff' is called Valentine's Day dinner," she scolded.

"Whatever. It's too mushy for me."

Marte took a different tack. "If you say your room is clean, then prove it."

Tendra turned and marched upstairs, with Marte and then Jaria behind her. She turned the corner and threw open the door to her room for her parents to inspect.

Marte stopped at the doorway and stared. He had never seen her room this clean. Not one thing was out of place. Walking in, he looked around and could not find anything that could use more cleaning.

Jaria had apparently reached the same conclusion, for all she could say was, "Why?"

"I got tired of that stack in the corner falling over," said Tendra.

"Doesn't work that way," said Marte, shaking his head. "Kids don't clean their room without being asked unless they want something big. So what is it? What do you want?"

"Well... maybe you could start by taking me to the game today?"

"Start by taking you to the game? First off, I've told you before that I've seen what goes on in the stands at Jets games. It's no place for a kid."

"But I'm not a kid anymore! I'm a teenager!"

"Teenager," said Marte for no reason. "You know, you didn't argue the 'kid' appellation a minute ago when I asked you what you want."

Tendra just looked at her father with innocent eyes and a look on her face that melted his resolve.

"OK, fine. But you said start with the game. So spill the beans. What do you really want out of this?"

Tendra sighed and stifled a grin. "I want to learn how to fly Storm Force," she said, referring to the Nalos' personal starship.

Marte and Jaria looked at each other for a long moment, then Marte turned back to his daughter. "Your mother and I are going to have to discuss that. Let's start with the game today and we can discuss flying lessons later this week."

The ticket agent punched a few keys, and a display next to the window lit up, showing available seats. Marte quickly picked a couple of expensive seats about 20 rows up behind the Storm sideline at midfield. "One adult, one student," he said, handing over his credit chip.

The Bothan started punching things into the computer, then slid over two tickets and Marte's credit chip. "Here you go. Enjoy the game."

Marte and Tendra found their seats without a problem, and they took off their coats as they sat down to read the program. After a few minutes, Marte headed up to the concourse to get some food. He ordered an extra-large chili cheese fries and two sodas. While waiting on the chili cheese fries to be ready, an announcement came over the PA system that they were going to perform a final test of opening and closing the roof and advising fans to put their coats on for the four minutes the test would take. The concession worker handed his food to him, and he walked back down to his seat, shivering as the roof was now halfway open. Tendra, who already had her coat back on, took the food while Marte quickly put his coat on, and they sat back to watch the roof. After two minutes, the roof was fully open—but it didn't immediately begin closing as the announcement had said.

After about three minutes, a new announcement was made, saying that they were having "technical difficulties" with the roof. Marte and Tendra reached for their gloves as they waited. Finally about fifteen minutes later, twenty before kickoff, came another announcement: "We apologize for the inconvenience, but we believe have fixed the problem with the roof. Please stand by while we commence closing the roof. Marte and his daughter looked up and the roof as they heard the sound of the motor starting up—and then the scoreboard went dark.

"Hello?!" called Tendra.

Marte just put his head in his hands. "Obviously, they tripped a circuit breaker."

Two minutes later the scoreboard came back on. The announcer said they would make a second attempt, and promptly the entire stadium lost power.

Within a couple of minutes, power began to be restored one area at a time, but Marte knew it would take at least half an hour before they would be able to play. Eventually, a final announcement was made: "We apologize for the inconvenience, but due to unforeseen technical difficulties with the roof, we are unable to close it at this time, and therefore today's game will proceed with the roof open despite the heavy snow. Due to the delay in restoring power, kickoff has been rescheduled for fifteen-thirty."

Tendra shook her head as she finished the last fry dripping with chili and cheese. "We picked the worst possible game."

"We picked? What's this 'we'? You're the one that wanted to come, not me."

The Smugglers sat quietly in the Solo Conference at 2-1. There had been the meltdown at Six Boroughs two weeks ago against Ralltiir and last week the team had scored a solid victory on the road against Ryloth. But to anyone splitting hairs, none of those games mattered. The games that always mattered, that always seemed to really be important, were the ones played within ones conference.

Chambers had been working out a lot. Pushing harder and faster, more reps, more time, more pain, and that was alright with her. She wanted to be at her best when the conference games began. So she went back to basics. Ball tracking, handling drills, the jugs machine that shot fast Limmie balls her way to deflect. She was getting ready for a titanic battle. The Senators, the Mercs, the Miners, they were all still on the schedule. All of them were in her division. A division she had every intention of winning.

Today, as she pounded the pavement in her new running shoes, Meredith couldn’t help but smile. She welcomed the challenge of facing the Senators and Gark S’rily again. Yeah, there was nothing better than seeing the Bothan’s fur ripple in frustration as the Smugglers handed him another loss. But she knew better than to tempt the Limmie gods with too much hubris. She just wanted to enjoy every game she played, not sure how many she had left in the tank.

Eleven years was a long time to be in the game. She was just past her prime, on the downhill slope, and that bothered her a great deal. Missing out on last year’s season was disappointing but coming back this year, she felt as if she had the entire weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. She had something to prove. She didn’t care if she never got the same publicity that Glencross or Kor’le or all of Rydonni Prime seemed to generate. This was personal and this struggle was internal.

Yeah, she was determined to turn things around. She had pulled Ike Tullo, George Edwards, and the other young bloods of the defense aside after practice one day to go over a few more reps with them. She pounded into their heads that the only way the Smugglers win against the Senators is to play disciplined, intelligent, Limmie. Limit mistakes, hit the opposing team where it counted by shutting down their shooting lanes. So to say that the Senators coming to Nar Shaddaa was a big game was the
understatement of the decade.

The Coruscant Senators were coming to town. The Rim War was back on after a one year hiatus.

Somewhere, high above in the heavens, the Limmie Gods were applauding.

Senators/Smuggers, blood, brawns, and action so intense it could spark a real life shooting conflict.

Commissioner Kayl'hen stepped up to the podium. "Good afternoon, gentlebeings.

"Last week, the Final Site Selection Committee made its recommendation to the Commissioner's office regarding the 272 Galactic Cup Final. I have reviewed their top bid and made my own investigation and inquiries into the suitability of the facilities for an event of the prestige on the order of the Galactic Cup Final and been satisfied with my findings.

"It is with great pleasure that I announce that the 272 Galactic Cup Final will be hosted at Andromeda Steel Corp Field here on Coruscant," Kayl'hen said, "This marks the first Galactic Cup Final on Coruscant in the last 27 years. The Committee agreed that it's high time that the Final return to Coruscant. Personally, I think that it's a great way to welcome back the Senators franchise back to the League after last year."

"What kind of arguments did the Senators employ in stating their case to host after such a long period?" one reporter asked.

"Actually, the bid was not endorsed by the Senators, but rather by the Coruscanti Chamber of Commerce," Kayl'hen replied.

"Is it true that teams were reticent to bid for this year's Final?" another reporter asked.

"Not at all. We had bids from Bakura, Commenor, Naboo, Hapes Prime, and Bonadan that were all considered."

"Only Bakura is an Elite League planet in that list. Are teams afraid of hosting the Final for some reason, perhaps because so few host teams go?"

"Not at all. We've received preliminary indications that Euceron is extremely keen to bid for 273, and I have sources that indicate that Mandalore is also interested in hosting another Final," Kayl'hen said, "So, in closing, congratulations to Coruscant and we'll see you all there for the Final."

The theme music played, and the cameras then zoomed in to show the duo of Carp and Rytund sitting at their anchor desk.

“Welcome once again to this presentation of Coruscant Senators Limmie!” Carp, the human said. “As always, my best friend in the whole galaxy, the guy who you should all emulate, the one, the only . . .”

“Bag it, Flynn,” Ozzy, a Rodian, said. “Get on with it.”

“All right, then,” Carp replied. “Today, we’re bringing you another Rim War matchup, with your Senators taking on the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. Ozzy, this is the Rim War, and it’s a tough game enough. But with the Senators not being able to play it last season, how do you feel this matchup will play out?”

“Oh, the Senators can win this one,” Rytund said. “They showed last week against Rydonni Prime that they still have it. The stars may be aging a little bit, but they seem to have shaken off the rust well enough to be back in stride.”

“The question is whether they can bring the momentum from that game over to this one,” Carp said.

“That’s always the tricky thing about Limmie. You need to be on your best game at all times,” said the Rodian. “But I know for a fact that this will be a rough-and-tumble, rock-em sock –em kind of a game. It always is.”

“The big question for the Senators today is whether they’ll be able to keep up the offensive onslaught from last week. They did a great job making Mara Singus, a Salbukk winner, mind you, look like an absolute D-Leaguer out there last week. This week they get the real Iron Girl of the Pipes, Meredith Chambers. She’s got so much hardware she probably has a storage unit for it somewhere, and you just know that she’ll put it on for this game. But the question for the Smugglers is Chambers, oddly enough. You have no idea how odd I find this to be. She’s struggled all season, despite the Smugglers entering with a winning record. That injury doesn’t seem to have healed as well as it should, and I’m not sure if she’s the same woman who has won three Salbukks in her career. I mean, it’s not just her, either. The entire Smugglers defense has been suspect. This is not the same crew that we saw push to the title two seasons ago; they seem to have lost that spark a little bit. But this should be good for the Senators forwards, who love picking on goalies when they get the chance. I’ll bet that they score 25 today; I just have a feeling that the Smugglers defense won’t hold well.”

“But the Senators must also contain the Smuggler offense,” Rytund offered. “Nar Shaddaa has quite a few polished forwards themselves, including former Senator Helena Forsythe as their team captain. I’m sure she’s bitter at being traded for credits two seasons ago, despite the title she won with Coruscant a while back. So she’ll be extra motivated for this one. With the patchwork defense the Senators seem to be having out there right now, I’m afraid that it might break at some point.”

“What are you talking about? Coach S’rily made some excellent changes last week. He ditched Jayla Leed in favor of Venn Sto, and the former Ingbrand nominee responds by holding the Monarchs to two points. Two points! This defense is playing solid ball now with the issues fixed, and they should come to play today.”

“And now we’ll send you down to the field with our sideline reporter . . .”

IC: Gark S’rilySix Boroughs

Gark looked at his troops. They were looking back at him with a fire in their eyes, something they only ever had in a big game. And this certainly fit the bill, being a Rim War game. On the other side of the field were the hated Smugglers, the only other team than the Bakura Miners that made Senator fans’ skin crawl. Animosity between the two teams was always high, and the Smugglers were most likely smarting after not getting to play this last season. Gark was intent on making sure this game would keep the Smugglers on their heels. Conference play was a whole different animal than nonconference, and with the added rivalry, this was going to be a bloodbath if no one kept a lid on things.

“Last week, I told you that we needed seven wins to get to the title,” Gark started. “Well, we’re one win in to that streak. But we’re no longer at home; this place is a little rough, as all of you should know. Smuggler fans are as rabid as they get, and we need to put that aside and play our game. Let’s make this win number 2 and keep the streak alive.”

The first half was a real low-scoring affair. Every time the Senators got into the offensive zone, the Smugglers were all over them. Rookie Ike Tullo looked every bit like a high draft pick today, making plays when necessary. Autumn Graves, who somehow had been talked into playing defense after being a Forward all her life, also looked strong. Chambers in goal looked like she had never been injured. On the flip side, the Smugglers weren’t making any ground either. Gark had stuck with his lineup changes from last week, and they were paying off so far. Eldis Dumerville and Myles Tormera looked like veterans, and were doing their bit to slow the Smuggler attack. When Forsythe grabbed the ball, she was immediately enveloped by the huge frame of Shayt Contar and stopped in her tracks. The middle of the field was the cruelest war zone of them all. Alysha Romax was dishing out hits, as was Izzi Polakaya, who finally looked back in the groove after parts of two seasons off from playing. Demetra Silkins, the Senators’ own high draft pick, was getting absolutely pounded out there. It was obvious that she had never been so physically whipped in a game like this, and she just looked beat after one half. It was that kind of game.

At the half, it was tied at 7. Boggs Campbell and Zadd had both punched in goals for the Senators, with the Defel also tacking on a bar point to give the Senators their point total. As the team went into the locker room, Gark knew that he just had to keep his team going after the Smugglers in the trenches. He could see them starting to crack around the edges; now was the time to pull forward and make them fall apart. During his pep talk, he urged his team to keep fighting and finish this one out.

The seconds half was similar to the first; physical play on both sides dictated the course of the game. But finally the Senators had an opportunity to break the stalemate. Syprul Raches laid out Graves with a well-placed hit after the former Miner had picked up a loose ball, and Zadd picked it up. The Defel whipped it around to Moen Heatly, who then found Polis Vayne slashing across the middle, Tullo lagging far behind him. Now it was Polis and Chambers against each other, the Numifolis, Salbukk and Galactic Cup heroes pitted in an epic battle on the field. Polis pump-faked a shot to the left; Chambers didn’t bite. She wasn’t faked out by trivial attempts like that. Polis then faked to kick the ball over the bar. Chambers went up, but the Senator Forward could tell that she just didn’t have that kind of jump in her in this game. As she raised her toes to try and block his shot, he skipped a low shot that Chambers couldn’t stop with her previous motion drawing her away from the box. Goal for Coruscant, 10-7 Senators.

The Smugglers didn’t take long to answer back. Forsythe, egged on by what Polis had done, beat Saram Golyxi, a former starter, and scored a goal past Venn’s outstretched fingers. The game was tied again.

The teams traded bar points before the Senators got another break. Demetra, beaten harshly all game, somehow dished out enough punishment for her counterpart to drop the ball. She then wearily tossed it into the offensive zone, and then dropped to one knee in exhaustion. Gark could tell that she was gassed. “ ‘Ryssa!” he shouted, and Laryssa Oneida, the other offense-minded middie, got off the bench. “Deme’s getting killed out there,” Gark said. “I need you to finish the game.”

As he finished saying this, he watched as Alysha took the ball up herself, pausing to let a Smuggler defender fly past before advancing with a well-timed stutter step. She then tossed a beautiful pass to Polis, who then rocketed a shot off his foot when he saw that his angle was perfect. The ball snapped into the back of the net for a goal. 14-11 Senators.

Time was starting to run out on the Smugglers now. A bar point by Boggs pushed the lead to two scores, something that the Senators defense was not willing to give up at this stage of the game. Gark was now substituting his defenders freely, because there was no sense in wearing them out as the Smugglers became more and more desperate for a score to cut into their deficit. At one point, Dirxx had run over to the sideline, absolutely worn out, and was waved back onto the field immediately by Palla Tryoti, the defensive coordinator, because the Smugglers had switched up their strategy. There was no rest for anyone here; the backups looked just as bruised as the starters on both sides.

Finally, the Smugglers put up a bar shot, cutting the lead to three. The Senators, trying to run out the clock, eventually landed another single to push the lead back up. Although the Smugglers loaded the offensive zone with extra forwards, the Senators defense held their ground. Both middies were pulled to insert extra defenders, and the Smugglers, despite getting quite a few good looks from distance, were hesitant to pull the trigger. All the while, the clock was ticking down, bleeding precious seconds from the home team.

Finally, when all was said and done, the Senators escaped with a 16-12 win over their rivals. Gark received a Gundarkade bath for the victory, one that meant a lot to the team and the fanbase. During the post-game pleasantries, Gark made sure to encourage Chambers when they met at mid-field. She had looked a lot stronger out there today than in her previous three games, meaning that she was finally getting a step back.

As the victorious Senators walked into the locker room, Gark knew that his team was energized and ready to fight another round. But he knew that this was just another game, and there was a game the next week. A showdown with the Mercs at Andromeda, the battle between the now high-flying Mercs and the rugged Senators squad that had just out-gutted the Smugglers. It was going to be a turn-around from the season before, when the Mercs had flopped to 1-6 and the Senators hadn’t even been in existence. The winner of this game would take sole control of the conference; if the Mercs won, it meant they would win Game #4 and go to 2-0 in conference. A Senators win would push their conference record to 3-0, something that with a win in their final two games would basically guarantee them a playoff spot. This next game was not exactly a must-win, but it was close.

“Hey, Coach,” big news!” said an assistant. “The Galactic Cup Final is going to be in our backyard this next season!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” the Bothan said wearily. “How could the Commissioner do this? We didn’t even put in a bid!”

“The Chamber of Commerce put in the winning bid,” the assistant said.

The only thing Gark could do was sigh. Great, another thing to add to his already fever-pitch lifestyle. He was the Limmie coach of a successful team, the crime-fighter who even had a song named after him, and was now going to have to preside over the preparations for the Galactic Cup Final in addition to all that. If it wasn’t for the superhero stuff, Gark reasoned, he could handle it. But, as an executive at Andromeda, and thus a huge stakeholder in the team, as well as his existing Limmie duties as coach and GM, this was just going to give him a headache. All this did was give Mornd more fodder for his lunacy; imagine what he would have in his twisted mind when he heard that the Final was not too far away from him. At this rate, all the security on Coruscant wouldn’t be able to stop him. This only made Gark’s job worse, because now he would have to finish Mornd off faster than originally planned. His excitement from winning the Rim War game faded into the distance as Gark realized that the road to the end of the season just got even longer. What had the CoC been thinking in that bid? Gark was happy to let the other Elite League teams fight it out for the right to have the Cup Final in their stadiums, but now that had come to his doorstep, and he wasn’t happy about it.

“You look stressed,” the assistant said.

“It’s been a long week,” Gark said quickly. “Sounds like I’ll have some things to think about on the shuttle ride home.”

Except that he didn’t. Instead, at the first chance he got, he promptly fell asleep and snoozed for hours. Man it felt good to sleep and try to relieve at least a little bit of tension. He was going to need it, too, because undoubtedly another mission had been planned back at the Bothancave, and he wasn’t exactly eager to get back to it.

The first half had been just as physical as any she had seen in her storied career. Burgundy and orange, a battle was being waged between those who believed in the Core and those who believed in the Outer Rim. The first game of conference play brought out all of the dirty tricks that players on both sides knew could slide past the searing eyes of the referees.

Polis Vayne vs. Meredith Chambers, the annual tilt of the Rim War was back in all of its glory and by the time half-time rolled around the game was 7-7.

Though she wouldn’t admit this to anyone in public, Chambers had been feeling a tightness in her surgically reconstructed knee that really limited her vertical movement. Fortunately in the first half the Senators had been aiming low and away. Now, as the second half commenced, Meredith had a sinking feeling that someone out there, probably Vayne, had noticed the once formidable goalkeeper was unable to make the high deflection that had been her trademark move since she started in the league.

Back and forth went the hits. Back and forth went the bolo-ball. There was blood, there was sweat, there was confusion, and still the game was close. The Senators were giving as much as they were getting and as time was winding down, Meredith had a sudden flash of defeat. It was a terrible thought to think in the middle of a physically demanding tilt but she could not shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong for the Smugglers squad. The defense had actually done a decent job but the young Amaran stud Vic McTodd could not put the game away, could not put enough points on the board for the Smugglers and as the game drew to a close, Meredith closed her eyes and looked away as McTodd was absolutely hammered, turning the ball over, the
end of the game.

Six Boroughs felt like a popped balloon. The mood was absolutely oppressive. There was a small smattering of applause for the Smugglers effort, some roars from the Senators faithful who were brave enough to live in the Vertical City, but most of all there was the pungent smell of defeat.

Chambers first met Polis Vayne at mid-field. He looked like he had the poodoo beat out of him, but Chambers was willing to bet that she looked worse.

“Hell of a game, you hear? I may not always like the way you Core people play the game but I would go up against you any day of the week. Real honored, you take care of yourself down the stretch, Vayne,” Chambers whispered into his ear, squeezing his hand tightly, a competitor’s squeeze.

Then she was thrust forward towards Gark S’rily. The Bothan’s fur did ripple, just not in the way Chambers expected. He seemed pleased, and really wet. She smelled the air, it was Gundarkade. Alana Glencross, how you’ve ruined that drink for me, Chambers thought as she shook Gark’s hand.

“Glad to have you back in the league. You coached a damn fine game today. You took home the victory this year. Maybe we’ll return the favor next,” she said, giving Gark a bear of a hug.

Meredith really respected the Bothan coach, even if he did smell like Gundarkade.

She trudged off to the locker room, ignored the requests from fans to sign autographs, and went straight to the showers. She really needed to think about a great many things. Only the sound of water dripping across her body, the warmth of it all, could really settle her down.

Yeah, Meredith Chambers was looking at getting older, and what she saw was hard to handle.

Mara stood from her cubicle. "Welcome back," was all she said. She knew better than to ask how it was, but her face said as much.

"Thank you," Sydney said. His tone of voice reflected that he meant it too.

"Lizsen said she wants to see you immediately. It's the Miners," Mara said.

"Well I can't be blamed for the fact that we let a winnable game get away from us," Sydney said, "Glencross should have kept her cool with Solo. That penalty kick was killer."

"Cundertol was looking for you. Before the game," Mara said.

"Sithspit," Sydney said. He had a fair idea what this was about.

When he walked into Lizsen Fleetfire's office, she glanced up from her datapad. "Sydney. How was it?"

"It was fine," Sydney said, shutting the door.

"I'm glad," Lizsen said, gesturing one of her manicured hands to the chair in front of her desk, "A bit of a situation developed while you were away."

"I don't like the sound of that," Sydney said.

"The GCAA has called Alesh and Morlan to testify before the Committee on Infractions," Lizsen said, "They notified Cundertol on Rydonni Prime. I've had him keep the two of them out of sight and sound, but the GCAA isn't relenting. This Feizal is a real vornskr."

"We need to let Alesh and Morlan testify," Sydney said, "They go to bat for us and we put this in the ground." Sydney jabbed a finger into the armrest of the chair to hammer home his point.

"I would agree, but my gut says that the GCAA knows something. They wouldn't risk clout by calling two Elite League players in the middle of the season. The GCAA has something. We need to convince them to allow sworn affidavits from the two of them, which we can word as carefully as we need to," Lizsen said.

"Sounds good to me. Where are they right now? Team shuttle? Let's get an uplink. Hell, I'll fly to Vandelhelm myself to get the statements if need be," Sydney said.

A light began blinking on Fleetfire's desk console. She looked at the inbound code. "Speak of the Sith and they shall appear," Lizsen said before accepting the call.

Quinn Cundertol's image blinked to life. "They are interrogating them!" he shouted without waiting to be acknowledged.

"What?" Sydney said, rising from his chair quickly.

"Ten minutes ago we landed on Vandelhelm and they were waiting for us! That devil horned witch from the GCAA was waiting and she bundled Morlan and Alesh into separate speeders and took off with them!" Cundertol shouted.

"Quinn, slow down. Are you saying that the GCAA just kidnapped two of our players?" Sydney asked incredulously.

"She waved some sort of document in front of their faces and said that they had to come with her to clear something or other up, threatened them with something about potential criminal charges, and left! You both told me this was going away and now I am losing control of my team!" Cundertol yelled.

Sydney spun to face Lizsen. "We need somebody on Vandelhelm to get over there right now. They don't have to testify. The GCAA is not a legal body."

"Quinn, we're getting someone on it right now," Lizsen said as she flipped through her terminal touchscreen. Without looking at Sydney she said, "Gossel Torkkatt. He's an old friend. I'll call him. Quinn, I have to hang up to take care of this. Call Sydney in his office in thirty seconds." She cut the connection before Cundertol could protest and was already dialing. "Sydney, go take care of Cundertol."

"How the frak did this get out of control so fast?" Sydney said as he went for the door.

"Triage, Sydney, triage," Lizsen called out, "Let's stop the bleeding before we do the postmortem."

Sydney ran down the hall to his office, blowing by Mara, who had never seen Sydney run. His holoprojector was already beeping.

"What's going on?" Mara asked, coming into his office.

"Defcon 2," Sydney said, "Get me anyone we know who knows anyone at the GCAA. They've got Alesh and Morlan on some trumped up legal basis and are trying to get statements from them about the recruiting and we don't have any presence in that room."

"But they didn't do anything wrong," Mara said, "We told them so in our reply. Is there something I don't know Sydney?"

"They could be saintliness incarnate but they need legal representation if they're going to answer any questions from the Committee because frak knows what they're going to say," Sydney said as he accepted the call on his holoprojector. He knew to expect Cundertol's image. "Quinn, we're getting beings over there. I need to know right now, worst case scenario, what Morlan and Alesh are going to say in there because we need to be ready for it."

"How am I supposed to know? All I know is that I am imminently going to have my comm ringing off the hook as reporters want to know why the GCAA have my rookie half forwards answering questions before the Committee on Infractions," Cundertol said, "Do you know what this sort of thing does to a team? It shakes it and with two conference losses we cannot afford to be shaken right now!"

"Quinn--I'm going to ask this again and not beat around the bush: I need to know everything right now," Sydney said, "because if I don't then things are going to start going very, very badly."

"I've given you everything!" Cundertol snapped, "Why is it so hard to defend the innocent in this galaxy!"

"Are you really trying to tell me that you think the GCAA would haul in two players they have no evidence on in such a public manner?" Sydney said, "Quinn, I wasn't born yesterday."

"I did nothing wrong when I recruited Morgan and Becki. Nothing!" Quinn replied.

"Sydney, I might have something," Mara shouted.

"Quinn, I'll call you back," Sydney said, killing the call. He ran out to Mara's cubicle. "What is it?"

"Zeverin Shnurrr," Mara said, furiously typing away, "We handled that malpractice suit? He's got sports medicine clients, including some college consulting. I think he's our in at the GCAA. You got a favor in the bank with him because you may need a big one to get the inside track on this."

"Just get me in touch with him," Sydney said, "I'll close it."

"Sydney, this doesn't feel right," Mara said.

"No it doesn't. Cundertol might be telling the truth, but if he is then there's some piece of the puzzle that he doesn't know about," Sydney said, "Just what I need--a client who's in trouble but can't help me figure out why."

Now ensconced in his beskar'gam, the man waited at the spaceport for the Merc's team hover bus to arrive. This had been his first chance this season to see the team play in person and he was impressed with what Vhett and Vizsla had put together. It bothered him that he hadn't been able to watch the team play at the Meshla Vhetin, but even in his newly re-painted armor he might be recognized there. He didn't want to risk that. Too bad they had lost today, it hadn't seemed their best effort. But seeing them play wasn't the real reason he was here.

So he stood by his own craft, an ancient kom'rk class assault fighter he had dubbed the Anvil and he waited for his first chance to speak with those he had come to see. The hover-bus pulled up to the waiting luxery shuttle. It seemed the team still used it, though at least now those team members that owned it wore their beskar'gam while traveling. The man had also heard the the shuttle was routinely escorted by a flight of fighters under the control of the Mandalorian Protectors, but he had seen no evidence of that yet.

He watched as the team members disembarked from the hover-bus. There were other fans here as well, aruetiise from the looks of them, seeking autographs. It seemed odd to him that the Mercs would have such fans, but perhaps the signing of former Chiefs players and brought along some of their fanbase...

He dropped the thought as he saw her, he would recognize her red and black armor anywhere. "Target aquired" he muttered under his breath to himself. The only other man he had recruited for this phase of the operation couldn't hear him of course. He was busy aquiring the other vessels they would need. It was this man's job to secure personel. He stepped forward towards Ryi Kor'le and uttered just six words. "I need to speak with you."

IC: Ryi Kor'leIziz Spaceport, Onderon

Ryi sat on the hover-bus as it made its way from the stadium to the spaceport. The team was leaving as soon as possible to get in additional time at home before heading back out on the hyper-lanes for the next matchup at Coruscant. That would be another tough game, the Senators always were, even last season when they called themselves the Force. The game had huge implications for the Solo Conference as well. The Mercs would have to pull out all the stops to avoid a repeat performance of what had just happened here.

She sighed, and what had happened here was that the Mercs had been taken out of their gameplan. The Crazy Dragons had played a time of possession style of meshgeroya, and had dominated the clock. The Mercs never had a chance to jumpstart their high octane offense and for the first time all season had been held below the 30 point threshold.

But not only had they been held below it, they had been destroyed on the offensive end, scoring only four points. Even worse those had all been scored by the reserves. Daryc had put one in the back of the net for three while fellow rookie Fortune had put one over the bar for a single point. The vaunted Mercs starting offense had been shut out by a swarming Onderon team that seemed to know where the Mercs players were headed before they did. It had been an embarassment, that had only been made slightly better by the strong defensive performance put up on the other side of the ball by the Mercs. Still, in the end, that had been for naught and the Mercs had taken their first loss of the year.

The hover-bus arrived at the spaceport and Ryi was the last to get off. She looked out at the small crowd of fans who had gathered, trying to get autographs. This was a new part of the game to her. Mandalorians never bothered asking for autographs, they saw little point to them. But the new aruetiise fans the team seemed to be garnering did. She steeled herself, telling herself she would sign no less than three but no more than five. But her attention was drawn to another "fan" who stood nearby. He was Mandalorian, and though she didn't recognize the color scheme of his armor, and he wore no aliik on his armor to denote his clan, she still knew who it was. His gait and the way she carried himself could not be hidden from her, just as no father could ever hide himself from his daughter.

He approached her. "I need to speak with you." Ryi nodded and led him to a more isolated area of the tarmac where they could talk. "Buir. What are you doing here? Why have you changed your armor?" Jac-Ral Tan'dar Kor'le, former GM and architect of the Mando'ade Mercs grinned under his buy'ce. He should have known his daughter would recognize him.

"I have a job for you and the Nulls. It's about Taab..."

Ryi listened to his proposal, her eyes growing wide behind her T-Visor as he gave her a brief overview. She nodded her head to him as he finished. "I will talk to them, but I can tell you already. We're in."

His lawyer was late. He was usually here by now for their weekly meetings. Taab saw little point to them, just more of the same every time. Detailing to Taab about filing more motions to delay proceedings for as long as possible. So far the aiwha-bait hadn't budged and had made no offers of a reduced sentence for Taab in exchange for a guilty plea. Taab still didn't care for the strategy and was determined to simply say no once such an offer had been made, against the advice of Mr. Crusier if he had to.

Still it wasn't like the lawyer to be late, and Taab did try to use the time he spent going from his cell to the interogation area to look for avenues of escape. But it looked as though that wasn't to be in the offing today. A knock came at his cell door which promptly slid upward. A guard took a half step in before handing Taab a sealed envelope. It was from his attorney's office.

Taab waited for the guard to withdraw before tearing it open. Inside was just a single peice of flimsi, and on it were written just two words. "Be Ready." Taab mulled that over in his mind for a moment and then he shredded the paper and consumed it. He didn't know just what he would have to be ready for, but for once, he had a good feeling about this.